f solitude. Only the low chatter of the men, the occasional stamp of
iron-shod hoof or the munching jaws of the tired steeds broke in upon
the perfect silence. From their covert in the westward slope of the
Christobal the two sentries of the little command looked out upon a
lifeless world. Beneath them, whiffing their pipes after their frugal
supper, the troopers were chatting in low tone, some of them already
spreading their blankets among the shelving rocks. The embers from the
cook fire glowed a deeper red as the darkness gathered in the pass,
and every man seemed to start as though stung with sudden spur when
sharp, quick, and imperative there came the cry from the lips of the
farther sentry,--

"Fire, sir,--out to the west!"

In an instant Lieutenant Drummond had leaped down the rocky canon and,
field-glass in hand, was standing by the sentry's side. No need to
question "Where away?" Far out across the intervening plain a column
of flame was darting upward, gaining force and volume with every
moment. The lieutenant never even paused to raise the glass to his
eyes. No magnifying power was needed to see the distant pyre; no
prolonged search to tell him what was meant. The troopers who had
sprung to their feet and were already eagerly following turned short
in their tracks at his first word.

"Saddle up, men. It's the beacon at Signal Peak."

Then came a scene of bustle. No words were spoken; no further orders
given. With the skill of long practice the men gathered their few
belongings, shook out the dingy horse-blankets and then, carefully
folding, laid them creaseless back of the gaunt withers of their
faithful mounts. The worn old saddles were deftly set, the crude
buckles of the old days, long since replaced by cincha loop, snapped
into place; lariats coiled and swung from the cantle-rings; dusty old
bits and bridles adjusted; then came the slipping into carbine-slings
and thimble-belts, the quick lacing of Indian moccasin or canvas
legging, the filling of canteens in the tepid tanks below, while all
the time the cooks and packers were flying about gathering up the pots
and pans and storing rations, bags, and blankets on the roomy
_apparejos_. Drummond was in the act of swinging into saddle when his
sergeant hastened up.

"Beg pardon, lieutenant, but shall I leave a small guard with the
pack-train or can they come right along?"

"They'll go with us, of course. We can't leave them here. We must head
for Cer