"You're right," Charley agreed promptly. "Call in all the men except the crew on the machine, and the bridge builders, Bossie. Get the other men in the tents to roll out and help. Tell the bridge builders to throw a bridge across the ditch, so that we can cross and get by the machine with the truck and wagon."
In a few minutes all was astir in the camp, men busy packing up, others pulling down and folding up tents, while still others piled them in the waiting truck and wagon. Within half an hour of giving the orders, Charley started with the first truckload, carrying with him half of the Spaniards to pitch the tents on the new camp-site. He found the knoll burnt clear of grass and the ground still smoking from the recent fire. Hastily unloading and directing the Spaniards where to set up the tents, the lad hurried back for another load.
Twenty men working with system can accomplish wonders, and long before dark the moving was finished and Chris was getting supper in the cook tent.
"I don't like staking out the mules," said the teamster, as he joined the rest at supper, "but I can't build a corral for them until to-morrow. You see, they keep moving around nearly all night, and they get all tangled up in the ropes and wear the hide off their legs trying to get free."
"I don't believe they will hurt themselves much in one night," Charley assured him, "and to-morrow all hands can turn in and build a corral for them. How much wood have you got ahead?"
"Enough for a week," answered the teamster, brightening. "That Juan is a first-class worker, and I have been hauling steady. I've got it strung along the road for a mile ahead of the machine."
As soon as it began to get dark, Charley gave a gun to each of the two dynamiters, and gave them instructions to join their two countrymen as guards.
Everyone was tired, and all retired early to their tents. It was agreed that the machine should stop work at midnight, and that, when her crew came in, two of the camp guard would go out and keep watch on it the balance of the night.
Charley was roused up about midnight by the stop whistle of the machine, and a few minutes later he heard its crew entering the camp, and the chatter of the two guards, as they went out to take the crew's place. The lad rolled over with a sigh of content, and dropped off to sleep again, only to awaken again to the sharp crack of rifles. "Get up, you fellows," he shouted to his chums. "There's more trouble afoot."
"Great Cæsar," exclaimed Walter, in disgust. "Can't we ever get a good night's sleep?"