As no brave knew that he would be upon the death list, and all were hungry for scalps, they chimed in with their chief's humor, and prepared to take the position by stealth, and then hold it by force of arms, as soon as darkness permitted them to do so.
From his position, commanding that of Kit Carey's camp, Red Hatchet selected the points of attack, and told off his warriors for the various advances, so that all understood the exact situation.
Then they waited until nightfall, and made no move until an hour after darkness fell.
Then the order was given to leave their ponies in the ravine, and advance on foot in squads of four and five.
The chief led four men, and his was the most direct advance, the others going out on either side and flanking, one party coming up from the rear of the camp in the rocks.
As noiseless as serpents they crept on, for they felt that they had men to deal with fully alive to all their cunning devices.
At last the chief and his party were within a few feet of the camp, and yet no alarm had come, no arrow or shot.
Red Hatchet felt now that he had his foes in his power, and feeling that the other squads of braves must have reached position, he suddenly arose and bounded toward the rocks.
As he did so there came wild yells and shouts, and then a terrific howl of rage, disappointment, and alarm commingled.
The enemy was not there, and the chief's squad had sprung upon a party of his own braves, and ere the mistake was known, for each had noiselessly gained the position, two warriors had been slain and a couple more wounded.