Skillfully the great circle was formed; for when, suddenly, out from the clouds burst the moon, shining like a light-house on an island of the sky, it revealed the cavalrymen sitting motionless on their motionless horses, in a great fringe; and in the center was the ghostly village. Just a little breeze sighed softly through the cottonwoods, while the stream flowing through grove and village murmured music. A horseman rode from down the line. It was the regimental surgeon, Dr. Coates—a jolly man, always eager for adventure. “By thunder! Believe they’re all asleep yet,” he whispered, excited. “What do you think, Guerrier?” queried the general, ill at ease. “Can’t tell. Maybe,” answered the half-breed, peering from his pony. “Well, we can go in and see. I’d like to know whether we’ve captured a deserted village, after all.” “Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain,” quoted the doctor, who was given to saying such things. “Nothing very sweet about an Indian village, doctor,” retorted the general. “I’ll just take you along, to prove it. Tell the officers to have their troops wait at a ready, Moylan, while we take a nearer look. Come back at once. I want you with me.” The adjutant quickly started the word down the circle, and returned. “We’d better all go in,” bade the general, dismounting. “The bugler, too. I may need him. Leave your horses here.” Quickly Ned swung from Buckie. Quickly swung from their horses also the doctor, and the lieutenant, and Guerrier the interpreter. They left the animals in charge of an orderly, and trudged forward afoot. The general and Guerrier led. The moonlight made walking easy, and staring hard at the tents, step by step they advanced, across the open space separating the cavalry circle from the village in the middle. Nothing happened. As before, silence, broken only by the slight breeze and the tinkling water, reigned. Guerrier called out loudly, in Cheyenne. Instantly a dog barked, and another, and another, until a furious angry chorus rent the quiet moonlight. “Many dogs,” he said. “So I think they still there. Dogs would go, too.” “Call again.” He did so. The doctor had nervously drawn his revolver. “Then why don’t they answer?” “Guess they wait, in the trees; and when we get nearer, maybe they shoot. No like this.” “That’s a comforting idea,” blurted the general. “But we’ve gone too far to back out with honor now. Let’s investigate those first lodges.” He drew his revolver. Lieutenant Moylan drew his, and Ned imitated. The butt of the heavy Colt’s six-shooter felt good to his hand. Once more they stole forward, this time more cautiously. Ned’s heart beat with a thumpity-thumpity; but he was not afraid, where the general led.