"Do you suppose it can be that he scents Indians?" he asked one of
the other men.

"It may be," he said. "It is sure that he is excited over
something. Perhaps we had better be on the safe side and wake the
men."

Quietly Mr. Harding went from wagon to wagon, rousing the sleepers.
He had hardly finished when Old Mustard, with a terrible roar,
snapped the rope that held him, dashed to the edge of the circle,
leaped a cart-tongue, and thundered away into the darkness. Almost
instantly there came a scream and then the rushing charge of Indian
riders.

They were met by the men of the party, now all prepared for them
and protected by the circle of wagons. And finding that their
attack had been discovered too soon, the Indians drew off after the
first rush.

By the earliest flush of daylight a searching-party went out from
camp. It came upon poor Old Mustard grazing about, and not far away
lay an Indian trampled into the dust. The Indian was the foremost
of the band that was quietly creeping up on the camp when Old
Mustard had scented them, and not only given warning, but surprised
and killed the leader.



CARLO, THE SOLDIERS' DOG