party sat about the fires, talking of but one topic--what
would happen when they came up with the Yaquis.

As they were in friendly country, not after cattle rustlers and had no
fear of Del Pinzo and his gang, there was felt to be no need of
standing guard. But for all this Bud, Nort and Dick were a bit
restless, and did not sleep as soundly as the others.

In fact along toward morning, though while it was yet very dark, Nort,
thinking he heard suspicious noises, unrolled from his blanket and
stood up.

"What's the matter?" came in a hoarse whisper from his brother.

"I don't know," answered Nort, in the same hoarse tones. "I thought I
heard something."

"So did I," and Dick scrambled out to stand beside his brother. "Are
the horses all right?"

"I hope so. We're lost without them. Let's take a look and--"

Nort stopped suddenly and pointed to the northern sky. Above the
horizon shone some red sparkles of light skimming and shimmering
through the dark night.

"Shooting stars!" remarked Dick, in a whisper.

"Shooting nothing!" cried Nort, and his voice was loud. "Those are
signals from the Yaquis! Snake! Wake up! We're right close to the
Indians!" he yelled.

CHAPTER IX

A LONE INDIAN

Less noise than that which issued from the excited throat of Nort would
have been sufficient to arouse a larger camp than that of the cowboys
on the trail of the Yaquis. Instantly every man in the party, not
forgetting Bud who had been sleeping as soundly as any, was on the
alert, gun in hand, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the other fist.

"What's up?" snarled Snake. He always did hate to rouse suddenly.

"Look!" cried Nort, pointing to the north, where, now and then, a
shimmering light cut the blackness of the sky. "Dick says they're
shooting stars, but I say Indian signals."

"They aren't shooting stars, that's sure!" declared Rolling Stone.
"I've slept in the open too often, counting those same shooting stars,
to be mistaken. They're signals of some kind!"

"But not Indians' signals," asserted Yellin' Kid.

"Whose then?" Nort wanted to know, satisfied that he had not awakened
the camp in vain.

"They're rockets--or some sort of fire works," went on Dick. "First I
thought they were shooting stars, but I can see now that they aren't.
They're sky rockets or Roman candles."

"That's right," agreed Snake. "And no Yaquis will fool with such
infernal machines as them."

"Unless your cous