“No. They saw too much of the start of my wagons yesterday. They would make out any movement on the river. You take the down party, Tiffany, with Haddon; I’ll go up with Dimond. Then you can leave Haddon in charge when you have him placed, and move about where you please.” Not a man of either party knew where he was to go, but as was the case at the beginning of the movement on “Durfee,” voices were subdued and nerves were strung up. As soon as it was dark, men carrying rifles and with light rations stuffed into all available pockets--little men, middle-sized men, and big men, but all active and well-muscled--appeared here and there by ones and twos and threes, dodged out of the camp, and slipped through the hollow behind the trestle-end. There was little champing and pawing of horses to-night, for Carhart and Byers were the only ones to ride. The men lay or sat on the rocks and on the ground there behind the brow of the ridge, and talked soberly. Before long an inquisitive bridgeman counted a hundred and twenty of them, and still they were coming silently through the hollow. After a time Dimond appeared, then Haddon and Byers walking together, and, after a long wait, Tiffany and Carhart themselves. Then the five leaders grouped for a consultation. Those near by could see that Carhart was laying down the code that was to govern their conduct for a day or two. Something was said before the group broke up which drew an affirmative oath from Tiffany and started Haddon and Dimond examining their weapons, and stirred Byers to an excited question. Then Tiffany drew off a rod or so with Haddon at his heels, saying, “My boys, this way.” And as the word passed along man after man, to more than a hundred, sprang up and fell in behind him. Carhart beckoned to those who were left, fully an equal number of them, and these gathered together behind their chief. “Good night, Tiffany,” said Carhart, then. But Tiffany’s gruffness suddenly gave way. With a “wait a minute, boys,” he came striding over and took Carhart’s hand in a rough grip. “Good luck, Paul,” he said something huskily. And then he cleared his throat. “Good luck!” he said again, and went back to his men. And the two parties moved off over the broken ground and the rocks, Carhart and Byers leading their horses. Carhart led his men nearly two miles north, then forded the stream at a point where it ran wide and shallow. He climbed the west ridge, and turned south along the farther slope. After twenty minutes of advancing cautiously he sent Dimond to follow the crest of the ridge and keep their bearings. Another twenty minutes and Dimond came down the slope and motioned them to stop. “Is this the knoll ahead here?” asked the chief. Dimond nodded. “Quietly, then. Byers, you wait here with the horses.”