"How many of them?" questioned Captain Moore.
"Not less than a dozen or fifteen, captain. I counted eleven, and heard some talking that I couldn't see."
"Where are they?"
"Down behind where the brook flows over those sawtooth rocks. We were out there fishing last summer."
"I know the spot you mean. What are the redskins doing?"
"Nothing in particular. I overheard one say to another that he expected White Ox along before sundown."
They must be an advance guard of the tribe, then," returned the young officer thoughtfully. "Did any of them see you?"
"I don't think they did."
But in this Peck was mistaken, for scarcely had the soldiers started to walk around the spot where the Indians were encamped, when a savage war-whoop rang out, followed by half a dozen shots.
The first round was a deadly one, killing two of the men and wounding Peck in the side. A bullet likewise grazed Captain Moore's shoulder.
"To cover!" shouted the young officer, as soon as he could speak. "The Indians are on us!"
He had a gun in his hand, and as he gave the
