"Let me have the glasses, I want another look," replied Middleton. His second look was a long one taken in silence. At last he replied: "It’s a signal, lads. I’ve seen the Comanches talk to one another in this way before. A Comanche chief is sitting on his horse on top of that knoll. He holds a rounded piece of looking-glass in the hollow of his hand, and he turns it in such a way that he catches the very concentrated essence of the sun’s rays, throwing a beam a tremendous distance. The beam, like molten gold, now strikes the grass on top of a swell off toward the north. It’s a secret just how they do it, for not yet has any white man learned the system of signals which they make with such a glass. Ah!" The "Ah!" came forth, so deep, so long drawn, and so full of meaning that Phil, Arenberg, and Bill Breakstone exclaimed together: "What is it?" "I would not have known that the black blur on top of the knoll was a chief on horseback if I had not been on the Texas plains before," replied Middleton, "but now I can make out the figures of horse and man, as he is riding around and around in a circle and riding very rapidly." "What does that mean?" asked Phil. "It means danger, not to us, but to the Comanches. The warrior is probably signaling to a band of his tribe who are meditating attack upon us that we are too strong." "Then it must be some fresh band," said Bill Breakstone, "because the one that had the little encounter with us yesterday knew that already." "I take it that you’re right," said Middleton, smiling and closing the glasses. "The second band won’t molest us--not to-day." "That seems to be a very effective way of signaling," remarked Phil. "On the plains, yes," said Middleton. "It is astonishing how far such a vivid beam of light will carry, as the crest of the knoll was too high for it to be intercepted by the swells." Middleton told Woodfall what they had seen. The leader’s chin stiffened a little more, and the wagons went on at the same pace, trailing their brown length across the prairie. About ten o’clock the march became difficult, as they entered a town, but such a town! Its inhabitants were prairie dogs, queer little animals, which darted down into their burrows at the approach of the horsemen and wagons, often sharing the home with a rattlesnake. But the horsemen were now compelled to proceed with exceeding care, as the horses’ feet often sank deep down in the dens. Stumbles were frequent and there were several falls. Wagon wheels, also, sank, and the advance became so difficult that Woodfall halted the train and sent Phil and some others to find a way around the town.