alps.

I learned that the men at Date Creek, including the mail-carrier,
numbered seven; that three were in the stable and four in the house.
These buildings were the same distance from the stream, and fifty feet
apart. The bank of the creek was perpendicular for a mile either way,
standing fully twelve feet above the surface of the water; but there
was a notch with a sloping descent, midway between the buildings, down
which the live-stock was driven to water. This slope offered the only
practicable point of attack, unless the Indians chose to move by one
of our flanks over a long level.

Mr. Hopkins said he had crept out to the shrubbery on the edge of the
precipitous river-bank, to the left of the slope, just before my
arrival, and had seen on the opposite shore a small party of men
moving through the willow branches towards our left. He believed it
was a flanking-party, intending to make a feint from that direction
and enable the main body to charge through the notch in the bank.
Believing the repelling force to be but seven, the Indians were quite
sure of success.

I was convinced that Mr. Hopkins's inferences were correct; but in
order that no mistake should be made, I sent two veterans in frontier
service, Privates Clary and Hoey, to reconnoitre both flanks. They
were gone half an hour, and returned with the information that no
demonstration was being made towards our right, but that a dozen or
more men had gathered on the opposite shore, at a point where they
could cross and turn our left flank.

Preparations to meet this movement were begun at once. Sergeant Frank
was sent to the ambulance with orders for the men in charge to bring
in the animals, two at a time, and fasten them in the rear of the
stable and stack. This was easily accomplished in the darkness. The
ambulance was left in charge of Vic.

While this was going on, and I was overlooking the construction of
rifle-shelters on the flanks, Sergeant Henry approached and asked if
he could not be of some use. Something in the tone of the boy's voice
showed me he felt he had been neglected, while his brother had been
kept busy.

"What would you like to do?" I asked.

"Does a soldier choose his duty, sir?" was the reply, uttered with
some dignity.

"Not usually, sergeant, it is true. I have a very important thing for
you to do--something for which I was intending to look you up. Go and
find Private Clary, and tell him to help you carry several armful