“Hurry an’ fetch on yez dirn Sooz!” was the cry sent after Brady, and that request voiced the spirit of the gang.
In an hour they had piled a fence of railroad ties, six feet high, around the engineers’ quarters. This task had scarcely been done when Anderson was discovered riding recklessly down the slope. Baxter threw up his hands.
“We’re going to have it,” he said. “Neale, I’m not so young as I was.”
Anderson rode in behind the barricade and dismounted. “Sioux!”
The graders greeted this information with loud hurrahs. But when Anderson pointed out a large band of Sioux filing down from the hilltop the enthusiasm was somewhat checked. It was the largest hostile force of Sioux that Neale had ever seen. The sight of the lean, wild figures stirred Neale’s blood, and then again sent that cold chill over him. The Indians rode down the higher slope and turned off at the edge of the timber out of rifle-range. Here they got off their mustangs and apparently held a council. Neale plainly saw a befeathered chieftain point with long arm. Then the band moved, disintegrated, and presently seemed to have melted into the ground.
“Men, we’re in for a siege!” yelled old Baxter.
At this juncture the women came running out, badly frightened.
“The Indians! The Indians!” cried Mrs. Dillon. “We saw them—behind the cabin—creeping down through the rocks.”
“Get inside—stay in the cabin!” ordered Baxter.
Allie was the last one crowded in. Neale, as he half forced her inside, was struck with a sudden wild change in her expression.