his call, and would run over to camp for an hour; would be
back at half-past ten and sleep by his instrument. Meantime, if needed,
he could be called in a minute,--the guard tents were only three hundred
yards away,--and so he went.

Ralph almost wished that he had sent a message to the colonel to tell
him of their suspicions and anxiety. He knew well that every officer
and every private in that sleeping battalion would turn out eagerly and
welcome the twenty-five-mile trot forward to the Chug on the report that
the Sioux were out "on the war-path" and might be coming that way.

Yet, army boy that he was, he hated to give what might be called a false
alarm. He knew the Fifth only by reputation, and while he would not have
hesitated to send such a message to his father had he been camped at
Lodge Pole, or to his father's comrades in their own regiment, he did
not relish the idea of sending a despatch that would rout the colonel
out of his warm blankets, and which might be totally unnecessary.

So the telegraph operator at Lodge Pole was permitted to go about his
own devices, and once again Ralph and his new friend went out into the
night to look over their surroundings and the situation.

The light still burned at Farron's, and Phillips, coming out with a
bundle of kindling-wood for the little beacon fire, chuckled when he saw
it,--

"Wells must be there by this time, but I'll just bet Farron is giving
the boys a little supper, or something, to welcome Jessie home, and now
he's got obstinate and won't let them douse the glim."

"It's a case that Wells will be apt to decide for himself," answered
Ralph. "He won't stand fooling, and will declare martial law.--There!
What did I tell you?"

The light went suddenly out in the midst of his words. They carried the
kindling and made a little heap of dry sticks out near the bank of the
stream; then stood a while and listened. In the valley, faintly lighted
by the moon, all was silence and peace; not even the distant yelp of
coyote disturbed the stillness of the night. Not a breath of air was
stirring. A light film of cloud hung about the horizon and settled in a
cumulus about the turrets of old Laramie Peak, but overhead the
brilliant stars sparkled and the planets shone like little globes of
molten gold.

Hearing voices, Buford, lonely now without his friend, the sergeant's
horse, set up a low whinny, and Ralph went in and spoke to him, patting
his glossy neck and shoul