"Oh, it's to be waitin'?" said the teamster. He fastened his eyes on the thicket, and his lips grew bloodless. The running river sounded more plainly. "---- ---- it!" cried the man, desperately, "let's start the fun, then." He whipped out his pistol, and Jack Long had just time to seize him and stop a false signal. "Why, you must be skeered," said Long. "I've a mind to beat yer skull in." "Waitin's so awful," whimpered the man. "I wisht I was along with them in there." Jack gave him back his revolver. "There," said he; "ye're not skeered, I see. Waitin' ain't nice." The eight troopers with Keyser were not having anything like so distasteful a time. "Jock," said Specimen Jones to Cumnor, as they followed the sergeant into the willows and began to come among the lodges and striped savages, "you and me has saw Injuns before, Jock." "And we'll do it again," said Cumnor. Keyser looked at his watch: Four minutes gone. "Jones," said he, "you patrol this path to the right so you can cover that gang there. There must be four or five lodges down that way. Cumnor, see that dugout with side-thatch and roofing of tule? You attend to that family. It's a big one--all brothers." Thus the sergeant disposed his men quietly and quick through the labyrinth till they became invisible to each other; and all the while flights of Indians passed, half seen, among the tangle, fleeting visions of yellow and red through the quiet-colored twigs. Others squatted stoically, doing nothing. A few had guns, but most used arrows, and had these stacked beside them where they squatted. Keyser singled out a somewhat central figure--Fur Cap was his name--as his starting-point if the signal should sound. It must sound now in a second or two. He would not look at his watch lest it should hamper him. Fur Cap sat by a pile of arrows, with a gun across his knees besides. Keyser calculated that by standing close to him as he was, his boot would catch the Indian under the chin just right, and save one cartridge. Not a red man spoke, but Sarah the squaw dutifully speechified in a central place where paths met near Keyser and Fur Cap. Her voice was persuasive and warning. Some of the savages moved up and felt Keyser's overcoat. They fingered the hard bulge of the pistol underneath, and passed on, laughing, to the next soldier's coat, while Sarah did not cease to harangue. The tall, stately man of last night appeared. His full dark eye met Sarah's, and the woman's voice faltered and her breathing grew troubled as she gazed at him. Once more Keyser looked at his watch: Seven minutes. E-egante noticed Sarah's emotion, and his face showed that her face pleased him. He spoke in a deep voice to Fur Cap, stretching a fringed arm out towards the hill with a royal gesture, at which Fur Cap rose. "He will come, he will come!" said the squaw, running to Keyser. "They all come now. Do not shoot."