“Don’t you hear?” said Peter.
I listened now. In a moment I was as wide awake as ever I have been in my life.
I remember everything that happened that morning as though ’twere but yesterday. It was morning too. Our windows faced the east, and there was a faint glimmering of the dawn already in the sky.
From the direction of the Indian camp, came first a subdued hum of angry voices. These were soon mingled with shouts of men and screams of women and children, and presently there were added the clash of weapons and the ring of revolver shots.
“They are fighting down at the toldos,” said Peter. “Hurry up with your dressing.”
“Whom are they fighting with?”
“I cannot say. It may be mutiny. Either that, or the Northern Indians are on us.”
“Heaven forbid.”
“Here, Greenie!” cried Peter.
“Jill, Jill!” I shouted, “Get up, brother. They are fighting.”