Page:Hendryx--Connie Morgan with the Mounted.djvu/148

and angry above the peaks to the westward. Behind the barricade the little garrison, with set, tense faces, watched the preparation of the final move of the painted Mooseheads. The provisions had been exhausted. Tex Gordon and his two Indians had found the cache rifled, and the small stock on hand had been consumed the previous evening. Even this meagre store had not lasted as long as anticipated. Connie had been awakened upon the fourth night by a commotion near the commissary, which consisted of some skins thrown over the buckets of provisions. There was the sound of a struggle—a loud shriek—silence—a muffled splash from the creek-bed far below, and when the boy investigated, a huge squaw rose up from the ground beside the skins and pointed at her sheath knife—at an empty provision bucket—at the cliff's edge. And, in the morning, the garrison was short one defender. After that a guard was set, but the harm had been done, and now the Mooseheads were getting ready to rush the hungry little band. For six days they had showed themselves in the clearing to shoot random shots and draw the fire of the village. But the ruse failed because Connie gave orders to