“Come on, boys,” said he, in the rough, hearty fashion for which he was noted in the little army of Tennessee. “And you, too, Injun. There’s a little thing or two to be done before daylight grows too strong.” The four rode on together, while the cavalry dismounted and, with the foot soldiers, lay upon their arms to await their return. “I don’t think the colonel’ll attack before daylight, though, will he?” asked Frank. Young Houston laughed. “I guess not,” said he. “Coffee is a first class fighting man, and that means that he’s going to make sure about the odds--for or against him. If I were leading this crowd, I’d walk into that nest of redskins with every gun going and without asking a question.” The discipline of this hardy backwoods army was none of the strictest, and the line between officer and private was not very sharply drawn, so Frank was not at all backward in replying. “But don’t forget, Houston, that Colonel Coffee has his men’s welfare to look to as well as the Creeks to beat. Why run risks with other men’s lives when a little care and prudence will make it unnecessary?” Again young Houston laughed; and there was a note of recklessness in it which seemed to rise above everything else. For this young man, almost boy, was one of the most fearless spirits of the border. The time was to come, though, when he was to look after the lives of his soldiers with even greater care than Colonel Coffee, when he was many years older, and responsibility had tamed his wild nature. “I don’t think there would be more danger for us than for the redskins,” stated he, humorously. “Another thing: Here’s a good chance to make a mark in the war; so why not do it?” About a half mile from Tallushatchee they drew up and dismounted. Making their horses fast among some trees, they stole toward the village with all the secrecy of stalking animals. Through the trees they caught sight of the fires, neglected, but still glowing redly. The huts and lodges lifted before them in dense masses; a sentinel stalked to and fro at intervals around the town; now and then a dog howled dismally. Because of the sentinels they could not venture too near. However, they were able to count the number of fires, and so were able to reckon upon the number of warriors with a fair degree of accuracy. For a half hour they prowled about the Indian town, endeavoring to learn all that was possible; but then the dogs began to get wind of them; their howls were changed to sharp distrustful barks and the stalking, shadowy sentinels became alert and suspicious. “About time to draw off, I’d say,” remarked Jack Davis in a low tone. “Creek all awake soon,” said the Cherokee hunter.