hall we slape? Jist
by the corner here?"

"No. I'll change that. Two just inside of one doorway and two inside the
other. I'll stay at the angle myself."

Three hours passed as quietly as the wool-clad footsteps of the Grecian
Fate. Then, stealing through the profound darkness, came the faintest
rustle imaginable. It was not the noise of feet, but rather that of bodies
slowly dragging through herbage, as if men were crawling or rolling toward
the Casa. Thurstane, not quite sure of his hearing, and unwilling to
disturb the garrison without cause, cocked his revolver and listened
intently.

Suddenly the sentry in the plaza fired, and, rushing in upon him, fell
motionless at his feet, while the air was filled in an instant with the
whistling of arrows, the trampling of running men, and the horrible
quavering of the war-whoop.

CHAPTER XXIII.

At the noise of the Apache charge Thurstane sprang in two bounds to
Coronado's entrance, and threw himself inside of it with a shout of
"Indians!"

It must be remembered that, while a doorway of the Casa was five feet in
depth, it was only four feet wide at the base and less than thirty inches
at the top, so that it was something in the way of a defile and easily
defensible. The moment Thurstane was inside, he placed himself behind one
of the solid jambs of the opening, and presented both sabre and revolver.

Immediately after him a dozen running Indians reached the portal, some of
them plunging into it and the others pushing and howling close around it.
Three successive shots and as many quick thrusts, all delivered in the
darkness, but telling at close quarters on naked chests and faces, cleared
the passage in half a minute. By this time Texas Smith, Coronado, and
Shubert had leaped up, got their senses about them, and commenced a fire
of rifle shot, pistol shot, and buck-and-ball. In another half minute
nothing remained in the doorway but two or three corpses, while outside
there were howls as of wounded. The attack here was repulsed, at least for
the present.

But at the other door matters had gone differently, and, as it seemed,
fatally ill. There had been no one fully awakened to keep the assailants
at bay until the other defenders could rouse themselves and use their
weapons. Half a dozen Apaches, holding their lances before them like
pikes, rushed over the sleeping Sweeny and burst clean into the room
before Meyer and his men were fairly on their feet. In the