While the soldiers were taking their way to the several defenses of the fort there was the beating of Indian drums at a distance, followed by the blowing of a bugle in the camp of the desperadoes.
Soon the beating and blowing came from half a dozen directions.
"They are gathering, sure enough!" exclaimed Joe. "I wonder how long it will be before they fire the first shot?"
"They'll not be rash—be sure of that," answered Darry. "They must know that the fort is a strong place."
A little later one of the guards announced that bodies of Indians were marching from the south of the fort to the westward.
Here there was a fringe of trees at a distance of not over a hundred yards from the stockade.
Colonel Fairfield had often thought to have the belt of timberland cut down, but had never put the plan into execution.
"They mean to get as close as possible before they expose themselves," said the captain. "Dilberry, have the four-pounder trained on that spot."
"I will, Captain Moore," said the head gunner, and saluted.
Quarter of an hour went by, and the drumming and bugle calling had ceased.