"All right," Harris said. He had his pants on and was buckling his shirt-clasps; he reached for his pistol belt, ran fingers through his hair, and grabbed his hat. Then he blew out the lamp and followed Brady out the door. "I'll get the major up-you roust out Tucker and have him put a squad on the roofs of the buildings around the guardhouse. Did you warn the guard?"

"Sure. Had a look in on Tonio, too. There's no telling whether he knows they're going to try and spring him tonight."

"He probably does," Harris said. "On the run now.

Brady nodded and turned away. Harris said, "I guess Inyo wants his kid back pretty bad."

"I guess he does," Brady answered, and went on.

According to the hastily designed plan, no lamps were left burning except those that would ordinarily be lit at this hour of the early morning. Brady stood with Major Cole and Justin Harris, looking out through the window of the major's front office. Behind them, Sergeant-Major McCracken rubbed his eyes and ran a hand over a scratchy stubble of beard. The office was pitch dark. Harris said softly, "You didn't just happen on that bunch in the middle of the night. Will."

"No," Brady admitted. "A few of them kept me pinned down on top of a hill about eight miles the other side of Tilghley's Ford. I broke loose, stole a horse, and ran like hell."

Breath whistled softly through Harris's teeth. "Remind me to keep you on my side, Will. You're a beter Indian than most of those bucks."

Brady chuckled. "I guess maybe we'd better shut up."

Silence settled in the room. The trap was set. Slowly the moon sHd down past the western rim. Three o'clock. And suddenly the door burst open. "Anybody here?"

Brady recognized Sutherland's voice. A frown crossed his face. "Be quiet," was all he said.

Major Cole said softly, "We expect a few of Inyo's men to try and get Tonio out of the guardhouse. We've set a trap for them."

Sutherland said, "This is a rotten way to fight a battle. It's the way an Indian would do it."

"Be quiet, Captain," the Major said. "Stand still and keep quiet."

The night stretched along; Brady could see only the flat rooftops of the buildings against the night sky, and the pale dust of the parade ground. But he knew men waited on top of each building. Pete Rubio, the breed scout whose ears were twice as good as any other man's, had replaced the guard outside the guardhouse.

In the office behind Brady, something thumped the floor. The major said, "Keep him quiet, McCracken."

"Yes, sir," McCracken murmured, and made soft sounds moving. McCracken was sitting on top of Tonio, who was tied and gagged. The major was taking no chances. Brady heard the rasp of Sutherland's breath; Sutherland's continuing anger floated across the darkness and touched them all. Then Pete Rubio's dark figure started to march a slow path back and forth in front of the guardhouse door, rifle tilted idly over his shoulder.

That was the signal. Brady knelt by the open window, lifting his rifle and resting the barrel on his hand in the opening, supported by the sash.

But whatever Rubio had heard was a long time coming. Brady was almost ready to give it up as a false alarm when his quick eyes caught sight of a furtive form slipping around the guardhouse corner. Rubio gave it every second a man could dare. Then his squat frame wheeled and the rifle came down off his shoulder, pounding into the crook of the crouching Indian's neck. The Indian dropped to earth.

At that moment the rooftop rifles opened up. Yellow muzzle flashes spurted from points all along the row of buildings. The sound of shots was fierce conversation in the night and Brady cursed: "Too soon —too soon."

He wheeled back from the window, bumping into somebody's body; he swung to the door, flung it open and ran out onto the parade ground Legs pumping, he rushed toward the guardhouse. Struck by the edge of the same fast-traveling thought. Rubio wheeled away from the guardhouse door and ran around the end of the building. Brady kept up his breakneck pace, following the scout around the building. Behind it he saw Rubio crouching down to aim his rifle, squatting on almost the exact spot of ground where Harris and Sutherland had come to blows yesterday. Brady stopped by the back corner of the building, bracing his rifle against the walls edge and took aim on a wheeling, running figure. His own shot and Rubio's sounded through the night simultaneously and the running Indian went down. Rifles were talking insistently all along the post. Dark shapes scuttled away through the desert brush. Then hoofbeats and the silhouetted shapes of men mounting up, not too far out in the desert. Brady put bullet after bullet toward the Apaches. He saw two of his targets spill out of their seats. Then the others were rushing away, half a dozen of them in full flight, quickly outdistancing the armys rifles.

Still cursing, Brady ran out into the desert with Pete Rubio at his heels. Presently he came upon the first of the downed Indians.

"Come on," he said, and Rubio came. Later, with two dead Indians laid out for burying and another two in the post hospital, Brady walked back to the major's office, scuffing up dust with his boots, feeling the night's intense anger slowly subside in him. A lamp came ahght on the major's porch. Harris blew out the match and tossed it down. McCracken came out the door behind the major and Sutherland.

As Brady came up, he heard McCracken talking: "Want me to put Tonio back in the calaboose, Major?"

"You may as well, McCracken."

The sergeant-major turned back into the office. Brady stood at the foot of the porch frowning into the dust until McCracken came back out with Tonio. The young Indian, hands tied behind him, glared angrily at Brady and at the others and allowed McCracken to prod him away. Down the row, Captain Miles Clayton, the post surgeon, came out of the hospital and walked forward.

"That one Rubio walloped will be up and around by noon," he said, and went on into the night, trudging tiredly.

Brady gi'ound his heel back and forth in the dust. "If we'd waited just a little longer," he said wearily, "we might have had them all."

The major's shoulders lifted and dropped. "We did the best we could under the circumstances. At least we've still got Tonio—and we've left Inyo with something to think about. He'll know now that he can't fool with us and get away with it."

"Maybe," Brady said, not convinced. "I want to know who the fool was who started shooting too early. The idea was to lead them into a trap and cap-tm-e most of them—not kill a couple and wound a couple more and let the rest get away."

Harris came forward to the edge of the porch and said to him, "It doesn't make much difPerence, now. Quit worrying about it."

"Hell," Brady said. "You'd be mad, too, if you risked your neck to bring the news in time, and then saw some idiot blow the whole thing up in your face." But privately he knew Harris was right. The main task was accompHshed-they had prevented Tonio's escape. It was only the anger pent up from the long day s events that made him spout off.

To cover his embarrassment, he borrowed tobacco and papers from McCracken, who had just returned from the guardhouse, and busied himself by rolling a cigarette with much more care than usual.

The major was turning to Harris. "Justin, word came in on the telegraph last night after taps. Sherman has given us the go-ahead to try and talk Inyo into returning to the reservation on the promise that they'll all be moved to the San Carlos when he comes in. I want you to take Tucker and Brady and start for Inyo's camp in the afternoon. You can take the Apache that Rubio knocked down to guide you into Inyo's camp. He'll probably agree to it, since it gives him a chance to go home, and there'll only be three of you along. Brady, between now and then I'd suggest you get some sleep."