ess--so that I might
not alarm the hacienda by a midnight visit.

An hour and a half of constant riding would bring me to its gate.

At the last moment of twilight we leaped into our saddles; and rode
silently into the chapparal that skirted the camp. After filing for
some distance through a narrow path, we debouched upon the up-river
road--the same that conducted to the rancheria.

The trappers, Rube and Garey, acting as scouts, went forward in the
advance. They were on foot--their horses remaining behind with the
party.

It was a mode of march I had adopted after some experience in
bush-fighting. The scouts of a marching force should always go on foot,
whether the main body be dragoons or infantry. In this manner they can
take advantage of the ground; and by keeping under cover of the timber,
are enabled to reconnoitre the angles of the road in a much safer way
than when on horseback. The great danger to a scout--and consequently
to the party for which he is acting--lies in his being _first_ seen, and
the risk is greater when he is mounted. The horse cannot be drawn under
cover without an effort; and the sound of the hoof may be heard; whereas
in nine cases out of ten, a man on foot--that is, such a man as either
Rube Rawlings or Bill Garey--will discover the enemy before he is
himself seen, or any ambuscade can be attempted. Of course the scout
should never advance beyond the possibility of retreating upon the party
he is guiding.

With full confidence in the men who had been sent forward, we rode on--
timing our pace, so as not to overtake them. Now and then we caught a
glimpse of them, at the further end of a long stretch, skirting the
bushes, or stooping behind the cover, to reconnoitre the road in
advance. To our chagrin, it was clear moonlight, and we could
distinguish their forms at a great distance. We should have preferred a
darker night.

The road we were travelling upon was entirely without habitations; most
of it ran through light chapparal forest, with neither clearing nor
homestead. One solitary rancho stood at about equal distances between
the town and the rancheria; and was known among the rangers by the
familiar sobriquet of the "half-way house." It was a poor hovel of
yucca, with a small patch around that had once grown yams, chile-pepper,
and a stock of maize for whoever had tilled it; but the occupants of the
little rancho had long since disappeared--the prowling soldier-robber