But as Duane sat his horse, peering around and undecided what further move to make, he caught the glint of flickering lights through the darkness.
Heading toward them, he rode perhaps a quarter of a mile to come upon a grove of mesquite.

The brightness of several fires made the surrounding darkness all the blacker.

Duane saw the moving forms of men and heard horses.

He advanced naturally, expecting any moment to be halted.
"Who goes there ?" came the sharp call out of the gloom.
Duane pulled his horse.

The gloom was impenetrable.
"One man--alone," replied Duane.
"A stranger ?" "Yes." "What do you want ?" "I'm trying to find the ranger camp." "You've struck it.