the mesa edge, Harris, the wounded officer, revolver in his unfettered hand. The first volleying over, only in single and scattered shots, as they reloaded, came the Indian fire. If the hope had been to strike dismay with a volume of sound such as native ears had not heard, the Apache was doomed to disappointment. Men who had heard the crash of Spottsylvania and Cold Harbor laughed at the puny crackle of two hundred muskets. Then presently the Springfields began deliberate reply, only an occasional shot, for only very rarely did so much as the tip of a turban appear, and then the sun had dropped below the Mazatzal and the valley was in shadow, and old Archer stood with grim, whimsical smile on his weather-beaten face, as, field-glass to his eyes, he scanned his outposts at the south where the firing seemed heaviest. It was a moment or two before he noticed Harris at all. When he did it was to utter a mild rebuke. "You should not be here, lad. You need rest. This is only fun." Yet not all fun. Strong came presently thumping back from beyond the store. He had borrowed Craney's Pinto pony and had been visiting the southward posts, and Pinto had been clipped by a bullet and was half frantic with the smart and scare combined. Moreover, Strong's fighting face was red and mad, as he thrashed the lagging pony up the slope. "It's Deltchay, sir, easy enough," said he, with sweeping salute, "and that isn't all"--this with almost challenging glance at Harris, who had dropped his pistol and was gazing intently through his binocular at an open, slanting space far out to the south-east, still blazing in the rays of the setting sun. "The man of all others that oughtn't to be there stood at that point of rocks not ten minutes ago--the man we sent for Turner, general--'Tonio himself!" Then both men, the gray-mustached commander, the angering adjutant, turned on the silent little subaltern, who stood there without having so much as changed his attitude or lowered his glass. "You hear that, Harris?" demanded Archer. And with calm respect, yet almost exasperating drawl, came the unlooked-for answer: "I was about to mention it--myself, sir. 'Tonio was certainly there--and Turner close behind him. Look for yourself, sir!" Look, indeed! Riding steadily down into the valley, still a long four miles away, came the extended line of half a cavalry troop in skirmish order, with the supports and reserves dotting the slope to their rear. "Turner, as sure as shooting," said the general--"and 'Tonio as his guide!" CHAPTER XVIII.