prisoners; and the ferocious response seemed to shock him, for he drew bridle and stared at Boyd as though fascinated.

So near to where I lay was Boyd standing that I could see the checked quiver of his lips as he bit them to control his nerves before he spoke. Then he said to the mounted officer, in a perfectly even and distinct voice:

“Can you not secure for us, sir, the civilized treatment of prisoners of war?”

“I dare not interfere,” faltered the officer, staring around at the sea of devilish faces.

“And you, a white man, return me such a cowardly answer?”

Another motley company came marching up from the river, led by a superb Mohawk Indian in