A mile had been covered, when the regular in front called a halt.
"A small camp is ahead," he said. "There, through the trees."
Without delay old Benson went forward to investigate.
He found three desperadoes talking earnestly among themselves, while warming some coffee over a small fire.
Listening to their talk he learned that they had been out on the trails leading to Fort Prescott, and had come in with the news that no re-enforcements for Fort Carson were within forty miles of the latter place.
"Gilroy and White Ox will be glad to hear our news," said one of the crowd. "They've been afraid all along Colonel Fairfield had sent out for aid."
Not stopping to hear anything further, old Benson crawled back to the place where he had left the others.
"We must capture those men, dead or alive," he said. "If they carry their news to the enemy there will be another attack on the fort within an hour."
Leaving the drum, bugle, and remaining rockets in a safe place, our friends advanced until all could see the three desperadoes quite plainly.
One of the fellows was unknown to Joe, but the others were Gus Fetter and Nat Potts.