As he came to the camp dumps he paused for a moment to take his bearings. Then he continued his way with long, decided strides, and in a few minutes the dim outline of Scipio's house loomed up before him. He came close up, and walked slowly round it. At one window he paused, listening. There was not a sound to be heard outside. At the window of the bedroom he listened a long time. No, he could not even hear the children breathing. At last he reached the door which Sunny had locked. He cautiously tried the handle, and the sound brought a whimper from the yellow pup within. He cursed the animal softly under his breath and waited, hoping the wretched creature would settle down again. He heard it snuff at the foot of the door, and then the soft patter of its feet died away, and he knew that the poor thing had satisfied itself that all was well. He smiled, and sat down at the foot of the door. And, with his knees drawn up into his arms, he prepared for his long vigil. It was the posting of the night sentry over Scipio's twins. CHAPTER VIII WILD BILL THINKS HARD--AND HEARS NEWS Wild Bill stretched himself drowsily. It was noon. He knew that by the position of the patch of sunlight on the floor, which he gazed at with blinking eyes. Presently he reached out his long arms and clasped his hands behind his head. He lay there on his stretcher bed, still very sleepy, but with wakefulness gaining ascendancy rapidly. He had completed two successive nights of "sentry-go" over Scipio's twins, never reaching his blankets until well after sun-up. For some minutes he enjoyed the delicious idleness of a still brain. Then, at last, it stirred to an activity which once again set flowing all the busy thought of his long night's vigil. Further rest became impossible to a man of his temperament, and he sprang from his blankets and plunged his face into a bucket of fresh water which stood on an adjacent bench. In five minutes he was ready for the business of the day. It was to be a day of activity. He felt that. Yet he had made no definite plans. Only all his thoughts of the previous night warned him that something must be done, and that it was "up to him to get busy." A long wakeful night is apt to distort many things of paramount interest. But the morning light generally reduces them to their proper focus. Thus it is with people who are considered temperamental. But Bill had no such claims. He was hard, unimaginative, and of keen decision. And overnight he had arrived at one considerable decision. How he had arrived at it he hardly knew. Perhaps it was one of those decisions that cannot be helped. Certain it was that it had been arrived at through no definite course of reasoning. It had simply occurred to him and received his approval at once. An approval, which, once given, was rarely, if ever, rescinded. This was the man.