He had proved himself a good shot, and, on more than one occasion, had displayed such coolness and self-possession in critical moments, that he was counted one of the most valuable men in the entire company.
The sentinels were stationed on the other side of the wood, Mickey at one corner, Thompson at another, with Fred about half way between, something like a hundred yards separating them from each other.
It must be said that, so far as it was possible, Fred Munson was furnished with every advantage that he could require.

He had a rifle suited to his size and strength, but it was one of the best ever made, and long-continued and careful practice had made him quite skillful in handling it.

Besides this, both he and Mickey were provided each with the fleetest and most intelligent mustang that money could purchase, and when mounted and with a fair field before them, they had little to fear from the pursuit of the Apaches and Comanches.
But it is the Indian's treacherous, cat-like nature that makes him so dangerous, and against his wonderful cunning all the precautions of the white men are frequently in vain.
"Now, Fred," said Mickey, after they had left Thompson, as he was on the point of leaving the boy, "I don't feel exactly aisy 'bout laving you here, as me mother used to observe when she wint out from the house, while I remained behind with the vittles.

If one of the spalpeens should slip up and find you asleep, he'd never let you wake up." "You need n't be afraid of my going to sleep," replied Fred, in a voice of self-confidence.

"I know what the danger is too well." With a few more words they separated, and each took his station, the Irishman somewhat consoled by the fact that from where he stood he was able, he believed, to cover the position of the lad.
The moon overhead was gibbous, and there were no clouds in the sky.
Thompson's place was such that he was close to the river, which flowed on his right, and he had that stream and the prairie in his front at his command.