mighty glad you've come!"

"Are you and Ralph safe?" was the question, as soon as the man could
catch his breath, for he had been running with all the swiftness at his
command.

"Yes, although I've got a scratch on the throat. But father--do you
know anything of him?"

"Yes, he has gone to Gonzales to bring help. He says he signalled to
you from the tall pine."

"So he did. Did he have a fight with any of the Indians?"

"Yes, he was attacked by Bison Head and Hank Stiger, the half-breed. He
put a bullet through Stiger's left calf, and knocked the Injun down
with the butt of his gun. That's the reason the two were not with the
party that attacked the cabin."

"How many are there, all told?" asked Ralph, who had come down the
ladder again.

"Not more than ten, and one of 'em's dead outside."

"And two or three of them are wounded," added Dan.

"The wust on it is, they'll be gittin' thicker and thicker," resumed
the old frontiersman, who had drifted into Texas from Missouri several
years ago, and who had spent all of his life on the plains. "I've half
a notion as how Bison Head is tryin' to git the whole Comanche nation
on the war-path."

"If that's the case, they may organise around here," said Ralph. "How
long do you suppose it will be before father gets back?"

"He said he would try to make it by daybreak," answered Poke Stover.
"It's accordin' as how he finds his men."

The talking now dropped off, as the frontiersman said it would be best
to remain silent and keep on guard at the various port-holes in the
shutters.

Slowly the night wore away, until it was three o'clock in the morning.
Only one alarm had come, but this had amounted to nothing.

"I see a light," announced Dan. "Can it be a camp-fire?"

"Not likely, lad," answered Stover. "Comanches on the war-path don't
light 'em. It's a signal."

"Another signal to attack?" queried Ralph.

"More'n likely. We must keep our eyes peeled for 'em."

Another half-hour dragged by, and the only sound that broke the
stillness was the morning breeze, as it began to stir through the
timber surrounding the clearing. Outside not a soul was to be seen.

"Perhaps that was a signal to withdraw," suggested Dan. "I hope it
was." But Poke Stover shook his head, for he had seen much of the
Comanches and understood them thoroughly.

"They won't go until they've had another round at ye," he said. "I'm
expectin' 'em every minit now."

Scarcely had he finished, w