"What sort of a man is Greer?" asked Ambrose.
"A lad; full of fun and jokes; a good machinist."
"Where does he sleep at the Fort?"
"He has a room in the old quarters. Gaviller's old house."
"Does he sleep alone?"
"He does."
"Simon," said Ambrose, finally, "can you get me twenty-five good men by dark; steady men with cool heads, who will do what I tell them?"
"I can," said Simon.
"Let them meet at your house," Ambrose went on. "Let every man carry his gun, but you must see that the magazines are emptied, and that no man has any shells in his pocket. I will have no shooting. Above all, do not let the Indians know that anything is going on to-night."
"It is well!" said Simon laconically. The old dark eyes gleamed.