A story of army life of the '70s on the frontier when the Indians were dissatisfied with the restraint put upon them by the Government. The opening scene of the picture shows Lieutenant Gray in the mess room of the barracks at his favorite pastime, gambling with some of the troopers who were fortunate enough to have some of their pay still left. He is partly intoxicated and quarrelsome. Lieutenant Bradley enters, and in pursuance of his orders, attempts to put a stop to the game. Gray hates Bradley for his good record and because he is a particular favorite of the colonel and his charming daughter, and the idea of Bradley trying to interfere in his nefarious pastime is gall and wormwood to the rascally lieutenant. Forgetting his bearing as an officer, Gray attacks Bradley, and being no match for that sturdy young athlete, is receiving a sound drubbing when the colonel appears on the scene. Explanations are offered, but the colonel is obdurate and Gray is placed under arrest and taken to the guard house, where in impotent rage he tears his hair and screams out his hatred against the colonel and Bradley, till exhausted he falls sobbing upon his cot. Finally the day of his court martial arrives and he is brought up for trial. The evidence of his guilt is so strong against him that it takes but a short time to dispose of his case. He receives a dishonorable discharge from the army and is ordered to leave the post before sundown. With disgrace staring him in the face on all sides he leaves the barracks, cursing himself and all who have been instrumental in bringing him to justice. Gradually the full realization of his position dawns upon him and he is half-crazed from remorse and self-pity. At last a desperate plan enters his crazy head. He will compel the colonel to sign a recommendation to the War Department to have him reinstated. Waiting until after dark, he enters the colonel's sitting room, and presenting his petition, on his knees begs him to sign it. Aroused to terrible anger by his impudence, the colonel orders him to leave his house before he is kicked out. In desperation, Gray draws his pistol and threatens the colonel's life. But that old Indian fighter is not frightened by this show of bravado, and by the force of his will, backs the maddened lieutenant out of the room and slams the door in his face. Locking it, he starts to return to his chair, when Gray, who has hastened to the window, fires a shot, seriously wounding the brave old man. With a laugh of fiendish triumph he springs on his waiting horse, and riding rapidly away toward the nearest Indian village, soon disappears in the night. At the fort all is confusion and excitement. Colonel Bennett had been shot by Gray, and Gray had escaped. Bradley was the first to recover his level-headedness, and ordering out a squad of picked men, starts out to capture the assassin, dead or alive. Gray has made his way to the Indian village in the meantime and is already in friendly confab with the chief, and when he has presented a plentiful supply of firewater, the old chief promises to protect him from his pursuers, and so, feeling safe in his present company, Gray proceeds to drown his sorrows in drink. Guessing the direction that Gray would likely travel in, Bradley and his squad soon reach the village, and dismounting he demands from the chief his knowledge of Gray's whereabouts. Old Red Wing stoutly denies any knowledge of the ex-lieutenant. Bradley orders a search to be made. The Indians are sullen and gather around the little body of soldiers. "Look out, sir!" suddenly cries Corporal Casey. "Thim divils air armed." He hardly gets the words out of his mouth, when the chief, picking up a handful of dirt, throws it in the air. In an instant the blankets of the warriors are thrown off, disclosing a rifle in the hands of each Indian. A fusillade of shots rings out, and all but Bradley, Casey and Logan bite the dust. Taken completely by surprise, these three survivors are seized and dragged to the center of the village, where a council is held and their death decided upon. But the boys had one friend in the hostile village, a little Indian maiden, "Deer Foot," who loved the colonel's daughter, and knowing that Bradley was her sweetheart, determined if possible to save him. Stealing away, she makes for the post and arrives a few hours later, nearly exhausted. Gasping out her story, she tells them that no time must be lost if they want to save the captain's life. It only takes a few minutes to get a company of Indian fighters in the saddle, and the race for life began. In the meantime the Indians have held their war dance, and tying their prisoners to the stakes, pile brushwood about them and prepare to enjoy the sight of seeing three of their enemies slowly roasting alive in the flames. Gray, now thoroughly drunk, urges the red devils on, and taunts his old comrades with jeers and boisterous laughter. "Good-bye, sir, and God bless you." Says Casey to Bradley as the squaws began to apply the torch. A flame shoots up and crackles about the limbs of the captives, when suddenly a cry of warning from an Indian sentry apprises the savages of danger. What is that rumble of thunder that seems to rise from the valley below? "Thank God," shouts Bradley, "it is our boys." Forgetting their captives for the time, the Indians dash for their rifles, but too late. Down the street of the village, two, three, six, eight, a hundred charging cavalry men are racing toward the captives bound to the stakes. Rifles begin to spit fire as the Indians attempt to make a stand, but in a few seconds the whole village is teeming with charging, slashing daredevil cavalrymen. So sudden has been the fight that not an Indian escapes the fate he so richly deserves. Of course. Bradley and his comrades are rescued, while Gray, who was one of the first to fire upon his former comrades, lies with his face buried in the dust, his lifeless hands clutching the dead grass. A fit end for all traitors who turn against their own blood and race. - The Moving Picture World, March 20, 1909