need them now, sure he will find the savages, as
he said, "squatted on the Peecawn."

And, sure enough, when the pursuers, at length at the creek's mouth,
enter the canon through which it disembogues its crystal water into the
grander and more turbid stream, they discovered certain traces of the
pursued having passed along its banks.

Another mile of travelling, the same silence observed, with caution
increased, and there is no longer a doubt about the truth of Cully's
conjecture. Noises are heard ahead, sounds disturbing the stillness of
the night air that are not those of the uninhabited prairie. There is
the lowing of cattle, in long monotonous moans, like when being driven
to slaughter, with, at intervals, the shriller neigh of a horse, as if
uneasy at being away from his stable.

On hearing these sounds, the Ranger captain, acting by the advice of the
guide, orders a halt. Then the pursuing party is separated into two
distinct troops. One, led by Cully, ascends the cliff by a lateral
ravine, and pursues its way along the upper table-land. The other,
under the command of the captain, is to remain below until a certain
time has elapsed, its length stipulated between the two leaders before
parting.

When it has passed, the second division moves forward up the creek,
again halting as a light shines through the trees, which, from its
reddish colour, they know to be the glare of log fires.

They need not this to tell them they are close to an encampment--that of
the savages they have been pursuing. They can hear their barbarous
jargon, mingled with shouts and laughter like that of demons in the
midst of some fiendish frolic.

They only stay for a signal the guide arranged to give as soon as he has
got round to attack on the opposite side. The first shot heard, and
they will dash forward to the fires.

Seated in their saddles, with reins tight drawn, and heels ready to
drive home the spur--with glances bent greedily at the gleaming lights,
and ears keenly alert to catch every sound--the hearts of some trembling
with fear, others throbbing with hope, still others thrilling with the
thought of vengeance--they wait for the crack that is to be the signal--
wait and listen, with difficulty restraining themselves.

It comes at length. Up the glen peals a loud report, quickly followed
by another, both from a double-barrelled gun.

This was the signal for attack, arranged by Cully.

Soon as hearing it, the rei