straight for Conner's Hill," said Captain Moore. Blow the bugle there, and beat the drum, and then move over to Decker's Falls and light your first camp-fire. After that you'll have to do what you think is best."
"I understand, captain," answered the old scout. "And trust me to fool 'em nicely, if the trick can be done at all."
"It is not going to be an extra-dark night," went on the young officer. "So you will have your own troubles in getting away from the fort without being seen."
"I know a route," answered old Benson. "Trust me for it." But just then he would say no more.
The men to go along were named Cass and Bernstein. Cass was a good drummer and bugler, and Bernstein was noted for his good sight and the accuracy of his aim. All of the party went fully armed, and took with them rations for two days.
"Good-by, Joe," said the captain affectionately, and he took his brother by the hand. "I hope you pull through in safety."
"And I hope you do too, Will," answered Joe, and his lip quivered as he spoke. Perhaps this would be the last time he would see his brother alive. Never before had the situation appeared
