Nothing was to be done, however, until ample time had passed to enable each man to reach the position assigned him.  Then, upon a signal from Jerry, which was to be the bark of a coyote, or prairie wolf, three times repeated, the attack was to be made.  After the signal, every man was expected to take care of himself.

The preliminaries arranged, the men one after another disappeared in the darkness as they moved forward to the attack, until finally Don Ignacio and myself were left alone.  Motioning me to follow him, he led the way to the top of a slight elevation, where we dropped upon our faces and peered over into the enemy’s camp.

With the aid of my glasses, by the uncertain, flickering light of their fire, I could see every object in the camp distinctly.

One Indian was bending over the coals, as though in the act of warming himself; while, about the fire, lay five others, wrapped in their blankets, and evidently fast asleep.

A little distance below them, I could just discern the dark outline of the herd, quietly feeding.  It was evident that they neither knew nor dreamed of pursuit.

It was a splendid night:  not a cloud was to be seen; and, although there was no moon, the heavens were thickly studded with stars.  No sound disturbed the profound silence that reigned about us, as we waited and listened for the signal that was to decide our fate.  How many voices, before another hour, might be hushed in death?  I asked myself the question, but there came no answer.

Suddenly, the stillness was disturbed by the quick, snarling yelp of a coyote, so natural, that, for an instant, I persuaded myself it was the creature itself and not old Jerry.  Again I heard it, seemingly more distinct and nearer than before.  Would it be repeated?

My heart almost ceased to beat as I asked the question, and I held my breath in my anxiety to hear.  Will it ever come?

Ah, yes! there it is:  quick, sharp, and unmistakable, followed by the report of a single rifle.

The next instant, the sound of a dozen shots burst upon the air, mingled with the terrible, unearthly yell of the Comanche war-whoop, and we all rushed forward pell-mell for the camp, through the whizzing of arrows, the ping of bullets, the shouts of Mexicans, and the yells of Indians.

It was such a scene of excitement that I hardly knew what I was doing, although I fully realized we were in the Indian camp:  before I had time to do more than this, I saw Jerry coming towards me.  As he came up, he said, in tones that carried cheer with them,—­

“Well, Judge, we’re in luck; fifty mules and two varmints is a pretty good night’s work.  How many hev you got up here?”

An examination revealed three dead bodies in camp, making in all, five Indians killed.  The remainder had managed to escape in the darkness.  We quickly despoiled the camp; giving the plunder to the men, and leaving the dead bodies behind us.