The time had narrowed. Close behind, crashing through a thicket, were the warriors, announcing themselves with shrill whoops.
Dallas waited, propped against a stone. The words of the old Texas song began to run in her mind:
"We saw the Indians coming,
We heard them give a yell,
My feelings at that moment
No mortal tongue could tell."
She was spent. She had no hope of being spared from death. Yet she was strangely calm and unafraid.
"Marylyn'll be happy," she said. "I know John Lounsbury well enough for that."
She became conscious of thirst. A branch of wild roses, shining with raindrops, bobbed above her. She bent the flowers to her mouth, one by one, and sucked their moisture.
She looked to the front again, across the spreading meadow. She heard the cheeps of awakening birds, and small movements in trees and grass. The grey of the sky was turning to pink. There was a lifting fore-glow in the east.
"See, Charley," she said, "there'll be good light to fight in. But—but there's just one charge."