But no! once more he turned to meet his foes, and two more confronted him, one a chief with uplifted tomahawk.
The last two shots of the captain's revolver dropped one Indian dead and wounded the other.
But that other came on, unheeding his four comrades who lay dead at the brave captain's feet, and now it was sword against tomahawk.
To the hilt in the heart of the Indian chief sank the sword of Captain Wallace, just as the tomahawk, though held in a dying hand, fell with fatal force upon the soldier's head.
As Captain Wallace sank among his foes, fitting monument to show how he died, Kit Carey dashed up, sword in one hand, revolver in the other.
"Great God! it is the noble Wallace! I am too late to save, but not to avenge. A noble death for a soldier to die, my gallant comrade," and the speaker glanced at the foes lying around the dead captain.
As he finished speaking he placed a whistle to his lips, and gave two sharp calls.
"Now to find Red Hatchet, for this is his work. Hark! how those Hotchkiss guns roar. Captain Capson is doing his duty well."
The fight was now surging along the ravine, the Hotchkiss gun pouring its deadly fire upon the flying redskins, while the scene of the battle was sickening to behold.
In answer to the two calls, up dashed two Indians who had come with Kit Carey, one leading his horse.