Ask
Mr. Hopkins if he has any kerosene or other inflammable stuff to
sprinkle on the hay and make it flash up quickly and burn brilliantly.
Then throw up a shelter in which you can lie and be ready to light the
hay when signalled."
"Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll attend to everything."
Not more than fifteen minutes had elapsed when the boy sergeant
returned and informed me that the bundle of hay was prepared and a
shelter constructed.
"Mr. Hopkins has two gallons of axle-grease and two quarts of spirits
of turpentine."
"Excellent. Mix them together and sprinkle the hay thoroughly. Then
place yourself in the shelter, and when you see a light flash from the
west window of the house light your bonfire."
"I'll do so, sir," and the boy ran away in the darkness.
An hour had passed when loud whoops gave us warning of the enemy's
approach. It was the war-cry of the terrible Apaches. Not a sound came
from the creek. I strained my eyes in that direction, but nothing was
visible in the black darkness beneath the pendulous branches of the
willows.
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