prise," said Sile to himself. "I'm going down
for a look at the barrier. I've lain still long enough."

He felt a little stiff when he first rose to his feet, but it passed
away when he stretched himself and began to walk. His left arm pained
him more than he had expected, and he found it slightly swollen. It was
not precisely like the same scratch made in any other way, and he was
glad that there was no more of it. Still, he hardly knew what he had
that he valued more highly than that light hurt upon his arm. It had
made a sort of soldier of him. It was a promotion, and he vaguely hoped
that it would leave a scar. Then he half wished that the scar might come
out upon his face, where it would not be forever covered up by his
coat-sleeve.

"My new horse is in the corral, and I couldn't pick him out now. My
lance and things are in the wagon. I'll go and have a look at the
barrier. I'm feeling tip-top."

CHAPTER XXVII

FROM BOW TO RIFLE

Leaning over the upper log of the barrier, rifle in hand, and peering
out upon the starlit slope beyond him, stood the form of Jonas, the
miner. Not a sound came to him from the mists and shadows of the valley,
and he was just remarking, aloud,

"It's as quiet as a cornfield," when a voice at his elbow explained,

"Hist! Ha-ha-pah-no--sh-sh!" and Na-tee-kah dropped upon the ground, and
pressed her little round ear against it. So, almost instantly, did
Ha-ha-pah-no, and he heard Sile saying,

"Their ears are better than yours or mine if they can hear anything."

"Didn't know there was one of ye nigh me," said Jonas. "That's the way
for a feller to lose his hair--looking too hard in one direction while
somebody comes up behind him. No, Sile, I haven't heerd a thing."

Na-tee-kah sprang to her feet.

"Horse come. Ugh!" and she held up her hand for silence, while
Ha-ha-pah-no also arose, listening intently.

"Indian ears for it," said Jonas. "'Pears to me I can hear something now
myself."

"I can't, then," said another voice. It was that of a sleepy miner, who
had waked up to follow Sile, just as he had been awakened by even the
noiseless movements of the squaws.

"Hark!" exclaimed Jonas.

It was the sound of galloping, and then a shrill whoop.

"Two Arrows!" screamed Na-tee-kah. "'Pache get him!"

Jonas had already thrown down the logs of wood in the opening, and now
he shouted,

"Rifles, boys! Ready!"

There was a great shout from the bivouac behind them, but