That, then, was the scheme, if the fire itself did not amount to much. Some of the dark figures behind the line of fire fanned; others were stealing forward, into the smoke itself. The moment was exciting. The smoke was drifting across the fort; would the two men and the boy suspect that the Indians were following it in? The line of fire seemed almost at the low mound which contained the three whites; the smoke drifted thick and fast; the figures of the Indians stole forward. Abruptly, from the dim mound spurted a jet of flame, and sounded a hollow “Bang!” Another jet spurted, with another “Bang!” And――“Bang! Bang! Bangity-bang-bang!” Hurrah! That fort was not being fooled; no, indeed. It was ready for anything. It knew what was behind the smoke, and had only been waiting. “Kill! Kill!” shrieked the two squaws, enraged again. But the warriors gave up, as soon as they found that their smoke scheme had not worked. They shot their bullets and a few arrows, and lay low. Soon the fire and the smoke had passed beyond the mule fort. Some of the braves returned to the camp; the others continued to sneak about, on guard over the fort. Silence reigned. “We might as well go to sleep,” said one squaw to the other. “Nothing will happen until morning.” “Lie down, white red-head,” bade the second squaw, roughly, to Dave. “To-morrow we will have three more whites, and that will mean lots of fun.” Davy obeyed. It was warmer lying down than sitting up. Thankful that the three whites were still unbeaten, and too smart for the Cheyennes, he fell asleep. When again he wakened, it really was morning. The sky was pink, and stars pale, the brush showed plainly. But he had no time to meditate, or invite another “forty winks.” The squaws had sprung to their feet; the air was full of clangor and shouting and shooting; the Indians were making a charge, the little fort was holding them off. It was the angriest charge yet, all in the chill, pink dawn flooding high sky and broad plain. However, it didn’t work. The two men and the boy were just as ready as ever, and the charge split. Cut Nose waved his hand and motioned. The circle of galloping horsemen spread wider, and dismounting, the riders, holding to their ponies’ neck-ropes, sat down to wait like a circle of crows watching a corn-field. The two squaws were disgusted. They grumbled, as they prepared breakfast; and under their scowls Davy felt afraid. He wondered what the Indians would do next.