We came in sight of camp about _sundown_, and riding ahead and seeing no one about the camp, I concluded to _try_ the boys; so, riding up over the hill, I came down upon the dug-out with a _whoop_, and fired several shots from my six-shooter as I circled to the east, and lying flat upon the pony I shot down a ravine just in front of the dug-out, my back being all that could be seen. Whiz! went a bullet just over my _backbone_; and I was satisfied that the boys were not _asleep_, and that they could _shoot_ pretty well too. So I dismounted at a place in the gulch where my horse was hidden, and taking a white handkerchief I raised it to view to try the boys; but white flag or no white flag, the two old black gun-barrels lay up alongside of the cave door and there was no such thing as a _flag of truce_ taking them down. I was a hundred yards off, and I swear I was afraid to put up my head to make myself known. At length they saw the _team_ coming, and knowing my _disposition_, they then mistrusted that it was me in the ravine. When I was sure that the boys knew who I _was_, I mounted my poney and rode into camp. The boys acknowledged that I had completely _deceived_ them, and that they took me for an _Indian_ riding down there to draw them out, and then a whole band would fire upon them from every hill. Dave said he had done his finest to hit me on the wing, but he could see nothing but my _back_, and that went down the ravine as swift as a cork over the cataract of Niagara, and he supposed he shot wild. I told him that he did very well, and I would not like him to do better upon like occasions. Charley said he would like to have cut a _suspender_ off anyhow, just to give me some caution.