p while it is raining or snowing if he
can help it. If an Indian is hanged, like Captain Jack or those
thirty-seven warriors who were executed at Mankato in 1863 for
participation in the Sioux massacre, he loses all chance of ever seeing
the happy hunting-grounds. So he does if he is scalped; and that's the
reason Indians make such efforts to carry off the body of a fallen
comrade. A Plains Indian never willingly goes into a fight during the
night. If he did, he would make it much warmer for us here on the
frontier than he does now. He may make use of a night like this to get
into position for an attack, but if left to himself he will not raise
the war-whoop before daylight, because he believes that if he is killed
during the dark he will be condemned to pass all eternity in darkness."

"Well, that is something I never knew before," said the corporal, "and I
have been on the Plains a good many years. Now that I think of it--"

"Corporal of the guard, No. 7!" came the call through the dense
darkness, whereupon Bob Owens jumped to his feet.

"What's the trouble out there, I wonder?" said he.

"Go and see," replied the sergeant with a sleepy yawn: "that's the only
way to find out."

"Sergeant," said the officer of the guard, "if those horses have had
grass enough, have them brought in and tied to the stable-lines. Look
well to their fastenings."

"Corporal of the guard, No. 7!" came the call again; and this time it
was uttered in a louder and more earnest tone.

Bob, who was walking toward post No. 7 with a very deliberate step, now
broke into a run, and George jumped up and followed him. A fortunate
thing it was for that camp and its inmates that he did so. His thorough
acquaintance with the ways of some of the inhabitants of the Plains
enabled him to prevent a catastrophe which would certainly have resulted
in a serious loss of life, and brought Captain Clinton's scout to an
inglorious end then and there. When he and the corporal reached post No.
7 they found the sentry on duty there lying flat on his stomach and
gazing earnestly toward the horizon.

"What's the matter, Sprague?" demanded Bob.

"I don't know, I am sure," replied the sentry. "If the hostiles had made
up their minds to pay us a visit, they wouldn't make such a racket as
that, would they? There! don't you hear it? Something's coming this way,
I tell you, and coming on a keen jump, too."

The three held their breath and listened intently. A second