his free and easy manner, and rode on with the other soldier mentioned.
As soon as they got into the thickets of the timber, they dismounted,
tied their steeds to a tree, and advanced on foot. In the meantime,
Amos Radbury spread out the balance of his party into a line fifty
yards long, extending from a deep ravine on the right to a steep hill
on the left. He felt that the Mexicans could not climb the hill very
well, for it was covered with large and loose stones, and to take their
ponies down into the ravine would be equally difficult.

The advance of Stover and his companion was necessarily slow, for they
had no desire to be picked off by some Mexican concealed behind a tree.
Yet they kept on for a dozen rods before finding any trace of the
enemy.

"The trail goes toward the ravine," said Stover, presently. "They are
following an old Comanche path."

"Right ye air," answered the other frontiersman. "Years ago, them air
Comanches had a village in this ravine, erbout four miles from hyer."

"I've heard tell on it, Dilberry, though I never sot eyes on it myself.
It war the home o' thet Bison Head, the wust of 'em as ain't dead yet."

Having made certain that the Mexicans had gone straight on for a goodly
distance, the two scouts so reported, and the entire party set off
along the ravine, which at some points was broad and shallow and at
others narrow and deep.

Suddenly the report of a gun rang out, coming from a point where the
ravine made an abrupt turn to the north. Several other reports
followed.

"They must be shooting at something," said Lieutenant Radbury. "But
they are not aiming at us, for no bullets have come this way, so far as
I can ascertain."

"Perhaps they are having a brush with some Indians," suggested another
of the party. "They may--Hello, what's this coming along the trail? A
white mustang, I declare, with a black blaze on his forehead. None o'
those greasers rode that animal, I'm certain on it."

"A white mustang!" cried Amos Radbury, and then, as the animal came
closer, he gave a start. "It's the same, I declare!"

"The same?" queried Poke Stover. "What do ye mean, leftenant?"

"That mustang belongs to me. I was trying to break him in when the call
to arms came. He must have gotten away from my boys. But what is he
doing away out here?"

That question could not be answered just then, and in another moment
the white mustang was out of sight. Then, as the firing ahead had
ceased, the