nd, in fact, none were really
needed, for though the nights were cooler than the days, a blanket and
a fire made every man comfortable.

So night settled down, the stars came out, the cooling wind blew the
smoke of the camp fire here and there and the posted sentries walked
their beats, waiting for what might happen.

That they were near to the hiding place of Mike, and, it was hoped, of
the captives too, could not be doubted. The trail had become more
fresh with every mile traversed.

"He's gone into some cave to hold off as long as possible," was the
opinion of Captain Marshall.

Nort and Dick had adjoining posts. They had been selected for the
first four hours of duty, from 8 to 12 o'clock, and it was near that
last hour when Nort, coming back from having reached the end of his
beat, called softly to his brother.

"Did you hear anything?" asked Nort.

"What do you mean?" asked Dick in turn.

"Well, like some one walking. Listen!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE LAST STAND

The boy ranchers--only two of them now, for Bud was taking a
much-needed rest, stood silent in the darkness, on one edge of the
camp. They listened "with all their ears," for they were, if not
exactly in the enemy's territory, at least within striking distance of
the Yaquis, and every precaution must be taken.

So when Nort whispered to Dick that a suspicious noise had been heard,
Dick was only too ready to believe it.

"Where did you hear it?" Dick asked in a cautious voice when, after
several seconds of intent listening, neither had caught a sound.

"Off there," replied Nort rather vaguely, pointing to the darkness
ahead of them--a darkness where the rays of several camp fires did not
penetrate, and which the starlight did not seem to pierce.

"I don't hear anything," went on Dick. "Maybe it was only the wind.
We don't want to give an alarm and--"

"Hark!" interrupted his brother in a low but tense voice.

Clearly then, to the ears of both, came the unmistakable sound of
someone or something approaching. There was the crunching of gravel,
and the noise of some hard substance moving on a rock.

"It's the Yaquis!" whispered Nort, as he brought his rifle to bear on
the blackness in front of him. "They're creeping up to make an attack!"

Dick also got his gun in readiness for instant action, and the boys
were just about to fire when a noise, best described as "unearthly,"
smote their ears. It was a long drawn out cry, weird a