If you looked closer, you saw that the figures were those of men, also horses and mules, most of the men leading their mounts, and here and there the yellow chevrons on some sergeant's blouse, or the broad yellow stripe on an officer's trousers showed them to be cavalry. There was no talking or unnecessary noise. At times they were fairly on their knees fighting their way up some rocky steep; again they dropped down into the darkness, the well-trained animals following like goats. At the head of the line, an officer, young in years but old in this kind of work, whispered occasionally to the veteran guide at his left. Just ahead of him an Apache scout, stripped for the fight, a band of red flannel about his forehead, his body naked except for the white cotton breechclout ("the G string") about his waist, the peculiar moccasins of his tribe on his feet, led the way, like some bloodhound on the trail. Out of the darkness ahead came the weird hoot of an owl. Three times did it sound. The scout listened till the last echo died away, and then, with his hands gathered about his mouth, answered the call. Quietly he slipped away into the night, the command stopping where they were as the whispered order flew back along the line, each man sinking down to the ground, glad of the chance for the moment's rest. The night was cold, although it was midsummer in a region where at noon the earth is baked and burned with the heat. An hour passed, and out of the darkness the Apache returned. The quarry which they sought was not far ahead, and it was best to leave their animals and go the rest of the way without them. Turning to the tall Sergeant behind him, the officer gave the orders for the movement, and back down the shivering, scattered line went the instructions: "Number fours hold the horses, every one else take all extra ammunition and their canteens and follow the column on foot." Then came whispered pleadings from the unfortunate "number four men" doomed to remain behind to guard the horses and the rear while the others went on into the darkness to--what? Perhaps death, perhaps a wound from a poisoned arrow; in any event plenty of hardship and suffering. How those cavalrymen begged for the privilege of getting a hole shot through them. They urged the officers to cut down the rearguard and leave but a couple of men to look after the packs and horses. "Very well, Sergeant," the commanding officer replied, well pleased when told of the men's desire to go with the fighting force, "leave three or four men to guard the animals and let the rest come on; God knows we are very likely to need them."