Chapter XXXI

Like gods they battled and like gods they died. Hour following hour that little band defied The hordes of red men swarming o'er the plain, Till scarce a score stood upright 'mid the slain. Then in the lull of battle, creeping near, A scout breathed low in Custer's listening ear: "_Death lies before, dear life remains behind Mount thy sure-footed steed, and hasten with the wind_."