It was Sergeant Meyer’s tour as officer of the day, and he had prepared for the night with the thoroughness of an old soldier.  The animals were picketed in the innermost rooms of the Casa Grande, while the spare baggage was neatly piled along the walls of the central apartment.  Thurstane’s squad was quartered in one of the two outer rooms, and Coronado’s squad in the other, each man having his musket loaded and lying beside him, with the butt at his feet and the muzzle pointing toward the wall.  One sentry was posted on the roof of the building, and one on the ground twenty yards or so from its salient angle, while further away were two fires which partially lighted up the great enclosure.  The sergeant and such of his men as were not on post slept or watched in the open air at the corner of the Casa.

The night passed without attack or alarm.  Apache scouts undoubtedly prowled around the enclosure, and through its more distant shadows, noting avenues and chances for forlorn hopes.  But they were not ready as yet to do any nocturnal spearing, and if ever Indians wanted a night’s rest they wanted it.  The garrison was equally quiet.  Texas Smith, too familiar with ugly situations to lie awake when no good was to be got by it, chose his corner, curled up in his blanket and slept the sleep of the just.  Overwhelming fatigue soon sent Coronado off in like manner.  Clara, too; she was querying how much she should tell Thurstane; all of a sudden she was dreaming.

When broad daylight opened her eyes she was still lethargic and did not know where she was.  A stretch; a long wondering stare about her; then she sprang up, ran to the edge of the roof, and looked over.  There was Thurstane, alive, taking off his hat to her and waving her back from the brink.  It was a second and more splendid sun-rising; and for a moment she was full of happiness.

At dawn Meyer had turned out his squad, patrolled the enclosure, made sure that no Indians were in or around it, and posted a single sentry on the southeastern angle of the ruins, which commanded the whole of the little plain.  He discovered that the Apaches, fearful like all cavalry of a night attack, had withdrawn to a spot more than a mile distant, and had taken the precaution of securing their retreat by garrisoning the mouth of the canon.  Having made his dispositions and his reconnoissance, the sergeant reported to Thurstane.

“Turn out the animals and let them pasture,” said the officer, waking up promptly to the situation, as a soldier learns to do.  “How long will the grass in the enclosure last them?”

“Not three days, Leftenant.”

“To-morrow we will begin to pasture them on the slope.  How about fishing?”

“I cannot zay, Leftenant.”

“Take a look at the Buchanan boat and see if it can be put together.  We may find a chance to use it.”

“Yes, Leftenant.”