“It’s myself that is the only one he has to look after him, and if I does n’t attend to my dooty, there’s no telling what may become of it, and be the same towken, I can’t say what’ll become of him if I does attend to the same.  Whisht! there.”

The last exclamation was uttered to Caleb Barnwell, whom he approached at that moment.  The leader stepped aside a few minutes, and they conferred together.  The Irishman impressed upon the leader the warning he had received from the hunter, and Barnwell admitted that there might be grounds for the fear, but he added that he was doing all he could to guard against it.  At Mickey’s suggestion, he sent two of his most trustworthy men to the woods to keep watch, while a third was stationed on some elevated ground beyond, where he commanded an extensive view of the surrounding prairie.  As this was to be a permanent arrangement, it would seem that he had taken all reasonable precautions.  Not a suspicious sign was seen through the day.

When night came, the two men were called in, and Mickey O’Rooney, Fred Munson, and a man named Thompson went on duty.  As two was the regular number at night, it will be seen that the boy was an extra.

“We’re to come in at one o’clock,” he said, in reply to the remonstrance of his friend, “and I’m sure I can keep awake that long.  I believe the Indians will be around to-night, and I won’t be able to sleep if I go into the wagon.”

Mickey had not yet learned how to refuse the boy, and so he took him along.

Thompson was a powerful, stalwart man, who had joined the party in Nebraska, and who was supposed to have considerable knowledge of the frontier and its ways.  He had proved himself a good shot, and, on more than one occasion, had displayed such coolness and self-possession in critical moments, that he was counted one of the most valuable men in the entire company.

The sentinels were stationed on the other side of the wood, Mickey at one corner, Thompson at another, with Fred about half way between, something like a hundred yards separating them from each other.

It must be said that, so far as it was possible, Fred Munson was furnished with every advantage that he could require.  He had a rifle suited to his size and strength, but it was one of the best ever made, and long-continued and careful practice had made him quite skillful in handling it.  Besides this, both he and Mickey were provided each with the fleetest and most intelligent mustang that money could purchase, and when mounted and with a fair field before them, they had little to fear from the pursuit of the Apaches and Comanches.

But it is the Indian’s treacherous, cat-like nature that makes him so dangerous, and against his wonderful cunning all the precautions of the white men are frequently in vain.

“Now, Fred,” said Mickey, after they had left Thompson, as he was on the point of leaving the boy,” I don’t feel exactly aisy ’bout laving you here, as me mother used to observe when she wint out from the house, while I remained behind with the vittles.  If one of the spalpeens should slip up and find you asleep, he’d never let you wake up.”