Led instead of crippling him." "He's a bad lot," sighed the general. "Wing won't fly away from Kennedy, I fancy." "Not if there's a shot left in his belt," said Blake. "And Ray is officer-of-the-day. There'll be no napping on guard this night." At the barred aperture that served for window on the southward front, a dark face peered forth in malignant hate as the speakers strode by. But it shrank back, when the sentry once more tossed his carbine to the shoulder, and briskly trudged beneath the bars. Six Indians shared that prison room, four of their number destined to exile in the distant East,--to years, perhaps, within the casemates of a seaboard fort--the last place on earth for a son of the warlike Sioux. "They know their fate, I understand," said Blake, as the general moved on again. "Oh, yes. Their agent and others have been here with Indian Bureau orders, permitting them to s