The men unrolled their blankets and prepared a fireless camp. Soon most of them were sound asleep. Scot and Byers moved up the shoulder of the hill to reconnoitre. They knew that guards would be watching to prevent a surprise, so they took precautions against being seen. By following a swale through the brush they were able to come close enough to see dimly the shaft house of the Ground Hog and the slaty dump which straggled below like a thin beard. “Looks quiet enough,” Scot whispered. Byers nodded. “Hugh won’t begin to paint the sky till after midnight,” the Colonel went on. “About that time we’ll bring the men up here into the draw and have them ready. You’re sure that little fellow Madden is all right? He won’t betray us?” “You can tie to him,” Byers said. “I don’t doubt his good will. What about his judgment? He looks simple. That’s all right, too, if he’s not shrewd enough not to make a mistake.” “He won’t.” “If they suspect a thing it’s all up with the plan.” “Gotta take a chance.” “Yes.” They lay in the sage for hours, the multitudinous voices of the night all about them in whispers of the wind, rustlings of furtive desert dwellers, the stirring of foliage under the caress of the breeze. McClintock read midnight on the face of his watch and murmured to his companion, “Time to get the men up.” Byers rose without a word and disappeared in the darkness. Far away toward the north a faint pink began to paint the sky. The colour deepened till the whole sky above Piodie took on a rose-coloured tint. The men from the camp below joined Scot. One whispered to another, “Look at the sky, Ben.” “Fire, looks like. Bet it’s Piodie,” the other said, startled. “No, it’s not Piodie. It’s the valley back of the big hill north of town,” McClintock told them. “How do you know, Colonel?” asked the first speaker. “Because that painted sky is a part of our fireworks,” he answered. “I’ll explain the programme, boys. Madden is to run across the shoulder of the hill toward the Ground Hog. When the guard stops him he’ll shout, ‘Fire in Piodie; whole town burning up.’ He’ll explain that Dodson wants them all to come back to fight fire. My guess is that they’ll take one look at the sky and start north _muy pronto_. For most of the men guarding the mine own houses in Piodie. The news will spread down the hill, and all we’ll have to do is to walk in and take possession. That is, if we’re lucky.” “Wow! Some strategy, Colonel. Did they learn you that in the war?” asked the old-timer who had come round the Horn. “Afraid I can’t take credit for it. Another man made the plan of campaign. It’s up to us to execute it. Ready, Madden?” “Y’betcha, Colonel.”