"From present signs," commented Private Bender, "I'm thinking that we'll put in a large part of our two years in the field. These Moros are ugly and determined when they get started." "They're not bothering us much just now," replied Hal, as he started on his round of inspection. Nine o'clock came and passed. Not a shot had been fired since late in the afternoon. Nor had there been any sound to indicate that Kelly or Slosson had encountered trouble near the plantation. Now that he was in command, Overton did not allow himself to be lulled into indifference by the stillness of the dark night. A sleeping volcano might start into eruption at any moment. At every important point along the trenches Hal paused, using the night glass that the lieutenant had loaned him. Ten o'clock came and passed without trouble. Then eleven and finally midnight passed. Sergeant Hal, however, was not to be caught napping. He resolved to be vigilant until Lieutenant Prescott relieved him. Hal had just glanced again at his watch, noting that the hour was nearly one, when a quiet voice reached him: "Private Bender calls the sergeant!" Hal Overton ran quickly around to the place where Bender stood peering off into the darkness. "Use your glass yonder, Sarge," urged the soldier. "See if you see anything moving." "I do," Hal answered quietly. "I see figures crawling out of the woods, headed this way. Pass the word to rouse every man without noise. Then go to Lieutenant Prescott, with my compliments, and report that the enemy seem to be crawling this way." Barely had Bender disappeared when Lieutenant Prescott came up on a quick trot. "Starting things, are they, Sergeant?" the officer whispered. "Here's your glass; look over there, sir." Lieutenant Prescott looked quietly for a few seconds. Then he turned to whisper: "Pass quickly along the lines, Sergeant, and order every man to load his magazine. Instruct the squad leaders not to let their men get rattled and shoot too soon or too fast. This move may be only a ruse." Bringing his hand smartly to the brim of his campaign hat, Sergeant Overton was off with the orders. He soon returned, however, and took up his position beside the lieutenant. Then, in a twinkling, scattering Moro volleys sounded on the other side of the house, followed by wild, savage yells. "That's probably a ruse to draw us around there," muttered Prescott. "Sergeant Dinsmore is there in charge, and he'll know what to do. Good! He's attending to it." For now the sharper tones of the Army rifles began to rip out on the further side of the house. Suddenly another volley of shots rang out on the near side of the house, showers of bullets driving in. "Lie down, Sergeant!" ordered Lieutenant Prescott, falling back. "Are you hit, sir?" asked Hal anxiously. "No, no; look after your fire control. Let your men fire whenever they see anything to hit, but not in volleys. Shoot sharp, men!"