He had not long to wait before the two scouts returned and reported the river black with the heads of the attacking party.
Then, lest the settlers should really be surprised, and the Indians take the camp without his aid, Ricardo gave a low order, and under cover of the bank, the Brotherhood approached until they could indistinctly see the dark mass upon the water, which they knew to be the swimming warriors.
In the encampment all was quiet as the grave, and every glimmer of light had disappeared; but, whether it was from negligence in keeping guard, or from watchfulness, none knew.
However, the chief felt that he had to be wary, for Captain la Clyde was known to be an expert and daring fighter, and might be setting some trap in which to catch his enemies.
Slowly and steadily the moving mass of heads swerved shoreward, the waters undisturbed by a single ripple, so quietly did the Indians swim, and at last several tall forms reached the shore and stood upright.
Others followed, and the braves were preparing for the deadly rush, their hearts beating with joy at the hope of success.
“Aim true, men; let every shot tell. Fire!”
In answer to the low, stern order of the bandit chief, a terrible volley rang forth from the river bank, and a withering hail of lead was poured upon the human mass, who seemed to sink beneath the deadly assault.
Then rang the stentorian voice of Red Dick.
“At them, you red devils! Cut them into pieces.”