“I don’t think it’s a good plan to expose ourselves,” replied Ben.
“But do you want those chaps to break their necks?” demanded the commander of the first battalion. “More than likely they are amigos.”
“I’ve got a plan for warning them, major.”
As Ben spoke he picked up some of the driest of the grass and palm leaves and applied a match to the stuff. It blazed up readily, and he threw the mass in with the other stuff about the edge of the hole.
“There, if they can’t see that they must be blind,” he said. “Come, let us get out,” and off they ran for the thicket close at hand. From here they watched the cart and saw it come to a halt near the hole and knew that the turnout was safe.
“I shouldn’t think the rebels would care to leave those holes about,” was Major Morris’ comment, as they pushed on once more. “They are as dangerous to their own people as they are to us.”
“I suppose they tell their own people about them.”
“Those men on the buffalo cart evidently knew nothing.”
“The rebels don’t care for the amigos. Their idea is, if a native is not with them, he is against them, and must suffer with the Americans.”