THE wagons were arranged in a triangle on the hill, and their wheels chained together. Into this enclosure the mules were hastily driven and secured. While Bushrod, assisted by the teamsters and Walsh, was busy preparing this defence, Stephen and Rogers stood ready to repel any advance on the part of the horsemen; but having failed to cut the train off on the open plain they circled once or twice about the base of the hill, taking care, however, to keep well out of gun-shot range; then they separated into two bands, one of which rode rapidly off toward the west, while the other remained in the vicinity of the hill, withdrawing after a little time to a distance of perhaps half a mile. Stephen and Rogers had watched their movements closely and in silence; now Landray turned to the Californian: “What does that mean?” he asked. Rogers shook his head. He looked at Stephen as if he expected him to say something more, but evidently no suspicion had entered the latter's mind; yet to the Californian the disguise was so apparent that he wondered at this. A few fluttering blankets and a smear of red dirt would never have deceived him; the silence they had maintained with never a shout nor shot as they spurred in pursuit of the wagons, was characteristic of men who saw no glory in mere murder, though they might be keenly desirous of the profits it could be made to yield. “What are they doing, Steve?” Bushrod asked, stepping to his brother's side. “They seem to be waiting.” “They act as though they had pocketed us and could finish this business in their own way and time,” said Bushrod, with a troubled laugh. “I reckon that won't come any too easy to their hands,” said Rogers quietly. “Look here,” said Bushrod, “what do you say to my banking up the earth under the wagons?” “It's an excellent idea; I'd do it,” said Stephen. “Come,” said Rogers, “lets you and me take a look around, Mr. Landray. I reckon they're in no hurry to try this hill, I wouldn't be if I was them.” They crossed the barricade, and inspected their surroundings. The top of the hill was perfectly flat, and an acre or more in extent; beyond this level space the ground fell gently away to the plain below. “It's right smart of a place for a fight,” remarked Rogers, after a brief glance about. Stephen nodded; he admitted to himself that with such an enemy the spot had its own peculiar advantages; he could believe that they might hold it for an almost indefinite period, even against much greater odds. His memory reverted to the glories of the freshly fought fields of Texas and Mexico: Odds? What had odds meant in the past to the men of America; and what were they still meaning on a thousand miles of lonely frontier?