ected for the advance most of the Delaware
and Shawano Indians; and these were now dressed in the clothes of the
Navajoes. He himself, with Rube, Garey, and a few other whites, made up
the required number. I, of course, was to go along and play the role of
a prisoner.

The whites of the party soon accomplished their change of dress, and
"painted Injun," a trick of the prairie toilet well known to all of
them.

Rube had but little change to make. His hue was already of sufficient
deepness for the disguise, and he was not going to trouble himself by
throwing off the old shirt or leggings. That could hardly have been
done without cutting both open, and Rube was not likely to make such a
sacrifice of his favourite buckskins. He proceeded to draw the other
garments over them, and in a short time was habited in a pair of
slashing calzoneros, with bright buttons from the hip to the ankle.
These, with a smart, tight-fitting jacket that had fallen to his share,
and a jaunty sombrero cocked upon his head, gave him the air of a most
comical dandy. The men fairly yelled at seeing him thus metamorphosed,
and old Rube himself grinned heartily at the odd feelings which the
dress occasioned him.

Before the sun had set, everything was in readiness, and the advance
started off. The main body, under Saint Vrain, was to follow an hour
after. A few men, Mexicans, remained by the spring, in charge of the
Navajo prisoners.

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

THE RESCUE.

We struck directly across the plain for the eastern entrance of the
valley. We reached the canon about two hours before day. Everything
turned out as we had anticipated. There was an outpost of five Indians
at the end of the pass, but we had stolen upon them unawares, and they
were captured without the necessity of our firing a shot.

The main body came up soon after, and preceded by our party as before,
passed through the canon. Arriving at the border of the woods nearest
the town, we halted, and concealed ourselves among the trees.

The town was glistening in the clear moonlight, and deep silence was
over the valley. There were none stirring at so early an hour, but we
could descry two or three dark objects down by the river. We knew them
to be the sentinels that stood over our captive comrades. The sight was
gratifying, for it told us they still lived. They little dreamed, poor
fellows! how near was the hour of their deliverance. For the same
reasons tha