resumed march, then halted again within a mile of the mountain, sending
two scouts ahead. By this time Anastacio had joined his sentinels, and
all four hid in the underforest between the great trees.

The scouts, keeping as much under cover as was possible, crept up the
lower spur of the mountain, their glance describing a constant half-
circle. When they were within a few feet of the fugitives, Anastacio
raised his bow and discharged two arrows in rapid succession. One buried
itself in the jugular of the foremost scout, and he huddled down among
the soft leaves without a cry. The other, equally well aimed, entered
the shoulder of the second scout, where it quivered violently for a few
seconds, then was torn forth and flung to the ground with a cry of
defiance. The Californian, disregarding his wound, raised himself to his
full height and pointed his pistol. But vaguely: the quiet, feathery
young redwoods told no tales. Then his eye fell upon his dead brother.
He turned and fled.

"They will not enter the forest," said Anastacio; "and when I am ready
they will fight, not before. Have you pencil and paper, senor?"

Roldan produced a treasured note-book that a relative had brought him
from Boston.

"Write," said the chief; and he dictated:--

SENOR DON CAPITAN,--At noon to-morrow we fight in the valley near the
eight oak trees and the two madronos. Do you wish to fight sooner you
can come into the mountains. It will be better for us.
ANASTACIO.