issful,
since it had to be so brief!

All day long the watchmen clung to their glaring stations, and Sunday
went by without either alarm or excursion. All Sunday--Monday night,
they scanned the dark depths of eastward basin, the lone reaches of the
valley, the tumbling heights to the west. It was nine in the morning of
the second day since the signalling from Squadron Peak when the cry
went up from the roof of the office, "Signal smoke south-east!" and
every glass at Almy was brought to bear within the minute, and half the
garrison lined the lower edge of the mesa, and all men were listening
for further tidings, when from the hospital came the stirring shout:
"Smoke answer, west!" And there, plainly visible, and not five miles
away among the pine-bearded foothills, in little puffs, singly and
distinct, thick wreaths of gray-white smoke were sailing straight
aloft. The waiting Apache of the Mazatzal was signalling the coming
brother from the dark clefts of the Sierra Ancha. One hour later, just
as ten was striking on the spiral of the office clock, two sudden shots
were heard on the flats to the north-west, and the little herd of
horses and mules, not two dozen in all, grazing under cover of the
rifles of Sentries 3 and 4, came limping, lumbering in, fast as hoppled
feet would permit and without sign of a herdsman. Number Three, a
veteran of the war days, let drive with his fifty calibre Springfield,
the gun of the day, and sent up a yell for "The Guard!"

"Join your companies, men," said the general, in his placid way,
whereat most of them went with a rush. "The north side first, Bonner,"
he added, as the captain came hurrying to his chief. "They've sneaked
up on the herd guard, I fancy. Send the picked shots out to the pits."

Out on the flats to the west of the Verde road, full five hundred yards
away from rock, tree or shelter, other than mere clump of cactus,
pumpkin size, or bunch of dirty weed, there was lying a little heap of
dingy white and brown, with a cow pony kicking at empty air in a
shallow ditch--what was left of the half-breed herd guard and his
mount. With most of the cavalry gone, the quartermaster had supplied
their place with such mounted men as he could make available, and in
broad daylight, within long rifle-shot of the sentry lines, the Apaches
had squirmed out, snake-like, on their bellies, unseen, unsuspected;
had picked off one of two watchers and stampeded the other. The
skirmish line stumb