Bronzed, bearded faces grew paler than usual, and perhaps some hands shook as the men thought of the loved ones at home.
God knows that they had cause to feel this weakness for a moment, when they realized that never again should their eyes behold those dear friends, and that this ravine in which they fought was doomed to be their field of death.
"Keep your faces towards the foe!" shouted Colonel Yates, bravely, and to himself he muttered the anxious prayer that could never be answered:
"Oh, heavens! that Crook was here, or Andy Burt and the Ninth."
But Crook and Gallant Major Burt were far away.
The Indians, incited by their chiefs, now prepared for a grand final rush.
Mr. Read, who had accompanied the expedition, was down; Colonel Keogh had vanished a long time before, and just at this critical juncture Captain Smith threw up his arms, and after reeling for an instant in his saddle, slipped to the ground.
Yates saw that the closing scene was at hand.
"Close up, men, close up! For God's sake, let every man keep his face towards them! The old Seventh will become famous!" he exclaimed.
Yes, indeed, famous at the dear cost of the utter extermination of almost half its number.