By this time the fray was spirited and picturesque in the extreme. The whole line of bluffs was alive with Indians dashing to and fro, occasionally swooping down as though to burst through or over the slender skirmish line. Others had swung clear around to the left, and were circling about in the valley below them. From all but the north side, therefore, the bullets came whistling in, and occasionally some stricken horse would plunge and snort madly, and one or two men were being assisted to the bank of the stream, where the young doctor had already gone to work. Hunter's dismounted men, sturdily fronting the south and southeast, were holding five times their force in check, while Ray's and Dana's mounted skirmishers, fronting southwest and west, were slowly falling back fighting. The Cheyennes encircled them on every side but the north.
Busy in getting his horses into shelter under the bank, which was a few feet high, and directing where the provisions and pack-mules should be placed, Wayne was suddenly accosted by Ray.
"If twenty men can be spared, sir, I'll put them on that island," pointing to a clump of willows and cottonwoods that stood along the opposite shore. "The Indians are crossing above and below, and we'll soon have their fire on our backs."
Wayne was soldier enough to see the force of the suggestion. He was man enough, too, to want to ask Ray's pardon for his language of the morning, but there was only time to accede to the request. The Kentuckian, still mounted on Dandy, was darting across the sandy space with a dozen or more of his men at his heels. The island was a Godsend. In less than five minutes the warriors who had ventured across, and were now seeking for a shot at the safety-roost along under the bank, were met by a score of well-aimed bullets that drove them to cover, dragging with them the lifeless body of one of their number.
"Spread out there, men!" shouted Wayne. "Seize every point you can get on t'other shore. Run up-stream fifty yards or so and scoop holes for yourselves in the sand." And then he rode out to the front again to superintend the retirement of his slender lines.
But all this time the firing had been rapid and almost incessant. As the troopers came slowly in towards the timber and the Cheyennes realized that it was impossible to drive them into panic or stampede, they seemed to give far more attention to the accuracy of their aim, and for this purpose the best shots had thrown themselves from their ponies and were striving to pick off the officers and prominent sergeants. Still, the greater number remained in saddle whooping and yelling and darting to and fro at a comparatively safe distance, banging away at anything or anybody within the soldier lines, and offering tempting though difficult marks for the sorely-tried skirmishers. Until he noted the distant war-parties crossing to the north side of the stream, Ray had been riding up and down the lines checking the useless waste of ammunition. Everywhere his voice could be heard, placid, almost laughing at times, as he rebuked the senseless long-range shooting of the men.
"Hold your fire, men. You can't hit those skipping jack-rabbits half a mile away. What on earth are you shooting at, Mulligan? You couldn't hit a whole barn at that distance."
But all the same he was seriously worried. He knew well that at the utmost there were no more than fifty rounds per man with the troopers, and that rapid firing would soon reduce this to next to nothing. The indications were that once hemmed in to the timber they would need every shot to stand off the Cheyennes until relief could come, and before galloping off to secure the timbered island in rear of their position and so form a partially protected "corral" for the horses, he had cautioned Dana and Hunter to be most sparing in their fire,—to allow no shot unless the Indians charged.
The foe, on the contrary, were flush with ammunition. Mr. ——'s cartridges were abundant among them, and from east, south, and west the bullets were whizzing overhead, ripping up little grass tufts from the prairie and raising a dust wherever they struck. The mounted skirmishers sheered off into the timber quite early, as they were being shot at from three sides, sprang from their horses and took to the trees, but before they could do so several casualties had occurred. Six horses were lying dead out on the prairie, others were wounded and bleeding, but worse than that, two old Arizona sergeants, veterans of a dozen fights, and five of the men were severely wounded. Ray's efforts to keep down the return fire were futile. As long as the men had cartridges and he was not about, they would fire. Just as Wayne the second time rode out to the front he found Dana slowly dismounting.
"Are you hit?" he asked.