nd he whispered then
to the interpreter.

"Apache dogs will come back in the night when the moon is up," said the
interpreter. "They will steal up to the camp like wolves, and die like
dogs and wolves, for they shall not have the horses and oxen."

And just then the Beaver, who seemed to comprehend his follower's
English, said softly:

"It is good."

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT.

The hours went by, but no sound or sign came from the plain; the stars
started out bright and clear, and in the east there was a faint, lambent
light that told of the coming of the moon ere long, but still all seemed
silent in the desert.

The Englishmen of the party seemed to grow weary, and began talking so
loudly that the Doctor sent sternly-worded messages to them to be
silent; and once more all was still, save when some one fidgeted about
to change his position.

"Why can't they keep still?" growled Joses, softly, as he lay perfectly
motionless, listening to every sound. "They don't understand how a
man's life--ah, all our lives--may depend on their being still. Look at
them Injuns. They never move."

Joses was quite right. Each Indian had taken his place where appointed,
and had not moved since, saving to settle down into a part of the rock.
The swarthy, muscular fellows might have been part of the stone for any
sign they gave of life.

At last the moon rose slowly above the edge of the vast plain, sending a
flood of light to bring into prominence every bush and tree, striking on
the face of the mountain, and casting its shadow right away over the
plain. From where Bart crouched he could not see the moon, for he and
his companions were behind rocks, but there was the heavy shadow of the
mountain stretching to an enormous distance; and as he watched it, and
saw how boldly it was cut, and how striking was the difference between
the illumined portions of the plain and those where the shadow fell, he
could not help thinking how easily the Indians might creep right up to
them and make a bold assault, and this idea he whispered to Joses.

"'Taint much in their way, my lad," he whispered. "Injun don't care
about night-fighting, it's too risky for them. They don't mind a sneak
up--just a few of them to scare the horses and cattle and make 'em
stampede, and they don't mind doing a bit o' spy of the enemy's camp in
the dark; but it isn't often they'll fight at night."

"But you expect them to come, d