"Have you a notion to try?" "If necessary." "Mebbe it's going to be." "You can count on me." Wondering at the change in this Englishwoman, her companion left her to join Rube. He found the whole garrison agog with excitement and alarm. There was a large gathering at the north side of the stockade, behind the barn and outbuildings. Even in the swift falling darkness it was evident that a big move was going on in the distant Indian camps. Nor did it take long to convince everybody that the move was in the nature of an advance. After a long and earnest scrutiny through a pair of old field-glasses, Seth, followed by Rube, made a round of the fortifications. The movement was going on in every direction, and he knew that by morning, at any rate, they would have to confront a grand assault. He had completed the round, and was in the midst of discussing the necessary preparations with Rube, still examining the outlook through the glasses, when suddenly he broke off with a sharp ejaculation. The next moment he turned to the old man below him. "Take these glasses, Rube," he said rapidly, "an' stay right here. Guess I'm goin' to drop over. I'll be back in awhiles. There's somethin' movin' among the grass within gunshot." With a cheery "aye," Rube clambered to the top of the stockade as the younger man disappeared on the other side. Seth landed on his hands and knees and moved out in that manner. Whatever his quarry the plainsman's movements would have been difficult of detection, for he crept along toward his goal with that rapid, serpentine movement so essentially Indian. Rube watched him until darkness hid him from view. Then, stooping low, and scanning the sky-line a few minutes later, he distinctly made out the silhouette of two men standing talking together. Seth found himself confronting an Indian. The man was plastered with war-paint, and his befeathered head was an imposing sight. But, even in the darkness, he recognized the broad face and slit-like eyes of the scout, Jim Crow. He was fully armed, but the white man's gun held him covered. In response to the summons of the threatening weapon, the man laid his arms upon the ground. Then he stood erect, and, grinning in his habitual manner, he waved an arm in the direction of the moving Indians. "Wal?" inquired Seth, coldly. "I, Jim Crow, come. I know heap. Fi' dollar an' I say." Seth thought rapidly. And the result was another sharp inquiry. "What is it?" "Fi' dollar?" "If it's worth it, sure, yes." "It heap worth," replied the scout readily. Seth's comment was short. "You're a durned scoundrel anyway." But Jim Crow was quite unabashed.