re comparatively fresh, and
they were now urged into a trot, while skirmishers were sent on ahead
to receive the first reports of the advanced scouts.

Suddenly, as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, some of
the scouts came riding back, pointing down into a small, rocky valley,
while the foremost yelled:

"They're making a stand down there!"

"Come on!" cried Captain Marshall, and, a few minutes later the fight
against the Yaquis began.

CHAPTER XX

THE WHITE FLAG

The boy ranchers--at least two of them,--were much disappointed at the
manner in which this fight against the Yaquis started. And I think I
need not say that the two I mean were Dick and Nort. Bud, while he had
never before taken part in a fight against Indians, did not expect so
much of the romantically picturesque and so was not so disappointed.

But like most healthy lads Nort and Dick, in their early days, had read
many books about the west, stories of adventures among the cowboys,
miners and Indians--especially the latter. And all the stories had to
do with the dashing manner in which the redmen fought, when they fought
in the open. Of course, when they had the chance, the Indians
preferred to sneak up on their victims and take them unawares. It was
easier than standing up against gunfire.

But when the Indians had fought there was a dash and spirit about their
attack that made the blood run faster in the veins. The redmen would
begin circling about the band they were to attack, riding their ponies
faster and faster as they approached, leaning over on the far side, to
bring the animal's body between themselves and the hail of bullets.
Then the doughty Indian, hanging to his saddle blanket by one
moccasined foot would fire from under his pony's neck, dashing away in
time to escape the white man's bullet.

That was warfare to make any real lad wish to toss aside his school
books and hike for the great WEST!

And it was by anticipating such scenes as this that Nort and Dick were
disappointed. But, in a way they had been prepared for it by seeing
what manner of Indians the Yaquis were. No warpaint, no feathered
headdresses, no necklaces of bears' claws, and of course no bows and
arrows.

It must be admitted that the stories on which Nort and Dick had fed
their imaginations were true enough about the time they were written.
But the romantic Indians died off, or were confined on reservations,
and those who occasionally sneak