an I expected."

"It was no easy matter with the drum," came from Cass. "I came pretty
close to falling and smashing it once."

The course now led up a small hill and then across a valley to another
hill, a distance of nearly three miles. The trail was by no means
straight and the walking was bad, and Joe and Darry had all they could
do to keep up with the others.

At the last minute Captain Moore had given the boys half a dozen
rockets, and explained how the fireworks were to be set off. Everything
they could do to puzzle the enemy was to be done.

At last they gained the top of Conner's Hill--so called because Major
Conner fell there while battling with some stage-robbers early in the
seventies.

Bringing around his bugle, Cass blew a long blast and then a regular
military call, which echoed and re-echoed throughout the mountains.
This was followed by a long roll on the drum, and then another call on
the bugle.

After this all waited impatiently, gazing in the direction of the fort,
which was, of course, hidden in the darkness.

"There they go!" cried Joe, and as he spoke two rockets flared up, dying
out almost instantly.

The boys had planted two of the fireworks given them, and now these were
touched off and went hissing skyward, leaving a trail of sparks behind.
Two minutes later a single rocket went up from the fort.

"That's the last," observed old Benson.

"I'll wager that will set the Indians and the desperadoes to thinking,"
said Cass.

"They'll think some more when they see a camp-fire over Decker's Falls,"
put in Bernstein. "They'll imagine that they are being surrounded."

"Don't be too sure," came from the old scout. "White Ox is no fool. He
has been through too much fighting. If we can only make him hold off a
bit that's as much as we can expect. You can bet he'll have spies up
here in less than an hour from now."

The march was now for Decker's Falls, a distance three miles to the
westward. Again they advanced in Indian file, Bernstein now leading and
old Benson bringing up the rear.

A mile had been covered, when the regular in front called a halt.

"A small camp is ahead," he said. "There, through the trees."

Without delay old Benson went forward to investigate.

He found three desperadoes talking earnestly among themselves, while
warming some coffee over a small fire.

Listening to their talk he learned that they had been out on the trails
leading to Fort Prescott, and had come