They knew their danger, and the warning the scout had given them, that “if he could get into their retreat an Indian could also do so,” had made them keep the closest watch, and not an instant did they close their eyes. “If I wakes up arter a nap, I wants it ter be in this world, not de next, so I doesn’t go ter sleep,” said a trooper, and he voiced the sentiments of all. To add to their wakefulness the corporal, in going his rounds, was seen to suddenly fall and lie motionless. The sergeant hastened to his side to find that an arrow had penetrated his eye--he was dead. Sergeant Mobile Buck dragged the body into hiding and wisely said nothing. He then went the rounds of the men himself, and very cautiously, for he knew that Indians were within arrow range and watching. Then the sergeant discovered how it was that the corporal had lost his life, for the moon was rising, and he had stood with its light behind him, his form in bold relief against its silvery face. “Be careful of showing yourselves with the moon behind you, for there are Indians watching for a chance to send an arrow at you,” said the sergeant, and he was cautious how he moved, for not only did he desire to escape what he had warned others of, but he thought also of the men, should he be killed or seriously wounded, and how readily they would get into a panic with no one to govern them. So the hours passed, the sergeant going on his rounds every half hour, and one time discovering a dark object out upon the open plain, and which he was sure was not there when last he passed that way. “Give me your gun, Benton,” he said to the sentinel nearest the dark object. The trooper obeyed, and the sergeant took a rest with the carbine over a rock, aimed well and pulled trigger. A wild yell, a form springing into the air, measuring a few feet, and a heavy fall followed. “You must keep better watch, Benton, for that redskin would have plugged you in half an hour more,” said the sergeant. Benton was thoroughly alarmed now, and said: “Yas, sah, you done sabe my life, an’ I ain’t gwine ter fergit it, nuther. You bet I’s keepin’ watch now, sergeant, I is.” The shot had startled the troopers, as it was answered by yells from the Indians across in the timber. But the sergeant continued his round, and to each man he told of Benton’s narrow escape, until several shots were fired at rocks fearing they might be large groups of Indians. That a random shot thus fired sounded a death-knell a choking war cry told. The sergeant had got the rifles of the corporal and of the other slain trooper, and kept them ready for use when the time came. But he continued his rounds through the night. Then he ordered all to be ready, for he felt sure an attack would be made.