CHAPTER XV.

A MAN WHO NEVER BROOKED AN INSULT.

Once within the rifle pits, Pandy Ellis drew his breath more easily, for the present danger was over.

The first person he met was garbed as an officer, and this man, although brave as a lion, proved to be an arrogant fellow in this time of danger.

"Whar kin I see Major Reno?" asked the ranger, laying his hand on the arm of the officer, a familiarity he seemed to resent, for he shook it off as he turned haughtily toward the other.

"What are you doing here, fellow, when all brave men are at work?"

Pandy smiled a little.

He entertained a curious feeling toward the army.

In one way he felt a contempt for them, and then again he almost reverenced everything pertaining to the great governmental system.

"Because I've jest come in; crawled among the reds. Been wid Custer, an' by ther Lord Harry, seen ther general an' every man wiped out," said Pandy.

"Look here, fellow; what canard is this?" demanded the officer.

The ranger overlooked the insulting speech; for he knew that what he said was astounding news.

His tone was dignified when he repeated it, however.

"I said Custer, Cooke, Gates, Keogh and every man of 'em had gone under."

"It is impossible, man alive; there is something behind this. Look here, fellow, do you know what we do with spies?" A vague notion had entered the officer's head that this might be a ruse of the enemy to force Reno to surrender.

Pandy's eyes flashed fire; here was something he could not stand.

"Do ye know what I would do wid such cusses as you? Wal, sir, I'd jist snap ye atween my fingers like a pipe-stem, bust me ef I wudn't," said Pandy, grimly.

"And this to me!" exclaimed the officer, in such a tragic voice, that had Pandy ever read Scott's works he would have been reminded of Marmion and the noble earl, Lord Douglas. "Who the devil are you, sir, may I inquire?"

It was evident that the man in authority had taken the ranger for one of the regular scouts belonging to the expedition, until his thoughts ranged on something worse.

"What am I? A free ranger; man who never took an insult in his life from red or white. Who am I? I reckon I'm a man, sir, which is more than kin be sed o' you. My name? I never was ashamed of it. If ye'll go an' let Major Reno know what I told you, an' say ter him that Pandy Ellis sent ye, thar'll be no more sed about the matter."

The soldier leaned forward, and peered at the thin face of this leathern-clad warrior. Pandy stood like a rock, and their eyes met.

"It's him; curse me if I haven't put my foot into it;" and, wheeling about, the officer strode away, his sword jingling musically when it came in contact with the spur that adorned his heels. He never reported to Major Reno, as a ball laid him low not three minutes afterward.

Pandy Ellis was a curious fellow, taciturn, one might call him. Although he fought through the night side by side with the cavalrymen, he never once mentioned a word of what he had seen, supposing the officer had reported to Reno, and that the major did not communicate the news to his men for fear of disheartening them. His duty had been done in this respect, and he was satisfied, although, of course, the ranger could not help wondering why he was not called upon to give a full report of the awful battle.

The night passed in those rifle pits, with death hovering close by, and seizing upon a comrade every little while, will never be forgotten by those who have survived the dread ordeal.

Again and again did the Indians attempt to force their position, only to fall back in confusion from the defense offered by those valorous sons of the republic who fought on with the black shadow hovering above them and the bullets, commanding their position, rattling about their ears.

It was a moment to be remembered until time shall be no more.

Morning broke at last, but did not materially change their prospects; for what was a benefit to them proved the same to their foes; each side could now make their bullets tell.

Brave men fell during the day--men whose records in the memory of their fellow-soldiers will doubtless be their only monuments.

Pandy fought through it all like a hero.

It was familiar business to the veteran ranger; and it might be noticed that every time he fired (which was frequently) he cut a fresh little notch on the handle of his tomahawk.

Pandy Ellis was the first man to avenge the death of Custer and his men.

As the day wore on, even the most cheerful began to grow discouraged.

Surrounded by tireless enemies thirsting for their blood; without water to quench the fierce longing that commenced to prey upon them; and no signs of aid from either Custer or Terry, their case was indeed becoming desperate.

It was late in the afternoon of the 26th of June, that keen-eyed Pandy Ellis discovered that the Indians' village had vanished, so far as lodges and people were concerned.

This gave him grounds for hope, which feeling was soon communicated to the rest of the devoted band.

It was evident that Terry or else Gibbon, perhaps, had arrived, and that the Indians were ready for retreat, although they intended holding Reno under their thumbs as long as possible.

Word must be sent, or by some oversight the remnant of the gallant Seventh might be left to perish on the field, and those rifle pits become their graves.

Pandy Ellis at once volunteered to accomplish this duty.

How he ever managed to dash through the redskins and live, will probably ever remain a mystery, but he did it.

A bullet touched his arm, three more cut his clothing, and, at the last instant, the cavalry horse he rode was shot from under him; but in spite of all this, the brave ranger carried the news to General Terry.

As the soldiers advanced the Indians retired, and the remnant of the Seventh Cavalry was saved.

Sleep seemed very sweet to those tired heroes that night; that much I can vouch for.

* * * * *

"Hold!" Mason shouted this word as if he possessed the fire of a Forest or an Edwin Booth.

Involuntarily the giant became motionless. It was only for a few seconds, however, and the deadly knife would have descended after all.

A pistol crack rang out with startling distinctness, awakening the echoes of this subterranean place. The boy trailer had fired; his prey had been tracked down, and the closing scene of the tragedy drew near.

Red Goliath dropped his blade with a howl, and clapped his hand up to his left shoulder, where the lodging-place of the bullet could be seen by the blood that wet his flannel shirt.

Two inches from his heart; not a bad shot, considering the excitement consequent upon the termination of the chase, and the dim light afforded by the cracks above, and yet it came very near costing the boy his life.

After shooting, in his eagerness to prevent the monster from doing Adele any harm in his dying moments (thinking his shot fatal), Mason sprang forward and presented his revolver.

It was a bad move on his part. Although agile beyond all calculation, his excitement made him less cautious than was his custom.

Red Goliath gave a singular cry when the boy appeared, for he recognized him at once, even though the young gentleman he had seen in New Orleans was now clad in the fanciful garb of a hunter.

In spite of his astonishment, the man did not lose his presence of mind an iota.

He saw the leveled revolver, and gave it a knock that sent the weapon spinning to the other end of the cavern, and the next instant the boy was clasped by the giant's one useful arm.

Once in that grasp, Mason's struggles were those of an infant, and he was soon thrown upon his back. A heavy knee upon his chest held him down, and he was compelled to see the giant reach over and, with his left arm, pick up the long knife.

Then eye glared at eye.

Mason's did not flinch at the blood-shot orbs that were fastened upon him.

He saw that blade ascend, but beyond a slight shudder it did not seem to affect him.

Red Goliath now realized what a climax affairs had reached, and he could not forego the temptation to tantalize the boy before dispatching him.

"There you lie, my little man, and there you're going to lie forever. Thought to get the best of me, did you? Aha! Red Goliath has passed through the jaws of death too often to give in to a mere stripling. The fates work in my favor. Hoskins found out what it meant to meddle with such a dangerous customer; now I'm going to give you a taste. Say your prayers, young man, for your seconds are numbered on this earth."

Higher rose the blade, as the giant gathered strength for a mighty stroke.

Yet the boy's eyes did not quiver, but remained fastened on those of his enemy. A minute would seem an eternity at such a time.

Red Goliath was purposely delaying his blow, to make the death agony more potent; but he hesitated too long.

A hand that could grip like a vise caught the upraised arm, and the giant looked up to find himself face to face with Chevalier Bolly Wherrit.