The gang tiptoed up, carefully, and we could just make out two of them peering in at the beds. Then they all gave a tremendous yell, like Indians or mountain lions, and rushed us—or what they thought was us. They stepped on the beds and kicked at the tinware, and expected to scare us stiff with the noise—but you ought to have seen how quick they quit when nothing happened! We didn't pop out of the beds, and run! It was funny—and I almost burst, trying not to laugh out loud, when they stood, looking about, and feeling of the beds again.
"They aren't here," said Bill Duane. At a nudge from General Ashley we had deployed, running low and swift, right and left.
"Poke the fire, so we can see," said Bert Hawley.
One of them did, so the fire blazed up—which was just what we wanted. Now they were inside and we were outside. They began to talk.
"We'll pile up the camp, anyway."
"They're around somewhere."
"Let's take their burros."
"Take their flags."
Then General Ashley spoke up.
"No, you don't!" he said. "You let those things alone."