“Thinking, perhaps, you may decide to remain near the mission, we carried with us material for your camp. We can pitch it for you beside the creek in a very short time, _señor_. When the dawn comes, those of the mission will find Captain Fly-by-Night in a comfortable teepee, with skins for his bed, an abundance of food and wine, cooking vessels, a heap of fuel. Every night one of us will fetch fresh meat and other food, and hear what you may have to say in the way of orders.” “This kindness will be the death of me,” said the caballero. “We cannot do too much for Captain Fly-by-Night. We may build your camp?” “I always accept what Heaven provides. On the level spot half a hundred feet from the creek would be an acceptable place.” The six Indians bowed before him and merged into the darkness. Chuckling to himself, the caballero sank back on his cloak and listened, but he did not release his grip on the butt of his pistol. Sounds came to him through the night from a short distance away--muttering voices, flapping skins, the squashing of wet moccasins in the mud. Half an hour passed, and then he heard the voice of the spokesman again: “_Señor._” “Well?” “The camp is prepared; everything is ready. It is best that we slip away before being heard or seen. At midnight each night some one of us will visit you, _señor_, and bring provisions. And now--is there anything you would command this night?” “Nothing. You have done well, it seems.” “You will be guarded, _señor_. There are friends of Captain Fly-by-Night inside the mission walls, but they must move carefully.” “I should think so.” “Everything is in the teepee, even to food for your horse. The fire is laid before it, and you have but to strike flint and steel. _Adios, señor._” “_Adios!_” The Indian’s face disappeared again, the caballero heard the slipping steps retreating, another fragment of language, and then silence except for the rushing wind and the roaring creek. For half an hour he waited, smiling, fumbling at his pistol, listening, and then he got up and stepped away from the bed of coals to be swallowed up in the darkness. He was taking no chances with the unknown, however. Step by step, and silently, he made a wide circle and approached the teepee. Standing beside it he listened intently, but heard nothing. Before the crude habitation was a heap of dry grass and wood, as the Indian had said. He sent sparks flying among the fuel, fanned them to a blaze, and waited back in the darkness a few minutes longer. Then he hurried forward and threw back the skins from the door of the teepee. The work had been well done. Boughs were on the ground, skins spread upon them. In a corner was a jug of wine, another of water, a quarter of mutton, a quantity of wheat-paste. Two rabbits, skinned and cleaned and spread on forked sticks, were beside the mutton. A dirty, ragged blanket, folded, was against the wall.