Hardy and the boys sat down and made a slight
meal. None of them felt very hungry, the excitement of the
approaching attack having driven away the keen appetite that they
would have otherwise gained from their ride; but Mr. Hardy begged
the boys to endeavor to eat something, as they would be sure to
feel the want of food later.
The meal over, Mr. Hardy lit his favorite pipe, while the boys went
cautiously up the hill to reconnoiter. There was no change; most of
the animals were lying down, and there was little sign of movement.
Two or three Indians, however, were standing motionless and rigid
by their horses' sides, evidently acting as sentries. The boys
thought that hour the longest that they had ever passed. At last,
however, their father looked at his watch, shook the ashes out of
his pipe and put it in his pocket. "Now, boys, it is five minutes
to the hour. Examine your carbines and revolvers, see that
everything is in order, and that there is no hitch. Tighten the
saddle-girths and examine the buckles. See that your ammunition and
spare carbine chambers are ready at hand."
In another five minutes the party were in their saddles.
"Now, boys, my last words. Don't ride ahead or lag behind: regulate
your pace by mine. Look out for armadillo holes--they are more
dangerous than the Indians.
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