to convey to him.

"Well, let him sleep," said Warren, finally. "I suppose he's tired out,
and very probably Davies will speedily come in."

But midnight came and no Davies. Out on the prairie--now dimly lighted
by the rays of the waning moon--the pickets at the east had descried no
moving objects. Every now and then the yelp of a coyote on one side of
camp would be echoed far over at the other. These, with an occasional
paw or snort from the side-lined herd, and the murmuring rush of the
river over its gravelly bed, were the only sounds that drifted to the
night-watchers from the sleeping bivouac. Towards one o'clock the
sergeant of the guard came out to take a peep. Later, about two,
Lieutenant Sanders, officer of the guard, a plucky little chap of whom
the men were especially fond, made his way around the chain of posts and
stayed some time peering with his glass over the dim vista of prairie to
the eastward.

"I declare I thought I saw something moving out there," he muttered,
after long study. "Are you sure you've seen or heard nothing?" he
inquired of the silent sentry.

"Not a thing, lieutenant, beyond coyotes or Indian signals, I can't tell
which. They keep at respectful distance, whatever they are."

"Well, even if Mr. Davies's horses were too used up to come, the
couriers ought to have got back long ago. Tell them to find me as soon
as they come in," said he, and went back to his saddle pillow in the
heart of the grove. At its edge a solitary figure was standing gazing
out into the night.

"That you, Sanders?" hailed a voice in low tone.

"Yes," answered the lieutenant, shortly, for he recognized Devers and he
didn't like him.

"Isn't Davies in yet?"

"No, and it's two o'clock."

"Oh, he'll turn up all right," said the captain, in airy confidence. "It
was all absurd sending him out to scout a smoke,--as if we hadn't seen
and smelled smoke enough this summer to last a lifetime. He's probably
camped down the valley somewhere, and they're all waiting for morning.
I'm not worrying about him."

"No, I judge not," muttered Sanders to himself, as he trudged on in the
dark. "You're simply keeping awake for the fun of the thing." But even
Devers got to sleep at last, and when he woke it was with a sudden
start, with broad daylight streaming in his eyes, and stir and bustle
and low-toned orders and rapid movement among the men, and Hastings was
stirring him up with insubordinate boot and speaking in tones