As it was, therefore, Fred Munson could only await for the issue of events. He was powerless to do anything until the sign should be made by his friend at the other end of the rope.

For fully two hours things remained in statu quo. The lad lay upon the ground close to the opening, listening, looking and thinking so intently that there was no danger of his falling asleep. The profound stillness remained unbroken during all that time. The murmur of the cascade had a faint, distant sound, as if it came from the ocean, many long leagues away, but there was nothing more—not even a signal from Mickey, who, if he had any plans, was working them with admirable secrecy. At the end of that time the lad concluded that it would be best to lower the lasso again.

"If he is down there, he must have a chance to get hold of the rope, or he can't come up here," was the reasonable conclusion of the lad, who passed it downward slowly and in perfect silence.

Fully a score of theories flitted through his head as he lay thus speculating upon the situation down below. At one time he was sure that it was useless to attempt to help his friend in that style. A half-dozen Apaches would not permit a single white to climb into safety immediately before their eyes, especially when they could cover him with their rifles if he should succeed in giving them the slip at the start. Then it appeared anything but reasonable to suppose that the Indians would remain directly below him, waiting for their chance to try their fortune in the trapeze line again. More likely they would scatter and hunt separately for the outlet which had permitted their intended victim to gain his safety. They could expect to gain nothing by remaining, and they were too shrewd to do so.

When the matter presented itself in this shape, Fred was ready to call down to Mickey, instructing him to grasp the lasso, and ascend without further delay. Too much precious time was being wasted. Fortunately, however, before he acted upon this theory, enough doubts arose to prevent his carrying it out.

He had had enough experience with the rope to know how to gauge it very well, and he lowered it until the other end was within two or three feet of the bottom. Having placed it thus within easy reach, he let it pass over his hand, holding it so delicately poised that the slightest disturbance was sure to be detected. He was in the position of the fisherman who is angling for some plump piscatorial prize, which requires the most skillful kind of persuasion to induce him to nibble the hook.

For a half-hour nothing touched it, and then Fred fancied that he felt a slight jerk. He made no response, but instantly became all attention and waited. A second later the jerk was repeated so distinctly that there could be no mistake. The lad gave it a twitch in reply, and then all remained still for a short time. Suddenly the thong was snapped from his hand, and instantly became taut.

Fred applied his ear as before. Yes; some one was climbing up the rope again.



CHAPTER IX.

GROPING IN DARKNESS.

It is proper, at this point, to introduce some history of the movements of Mickey O'Rooney, after the separation between himself and his young friend. The latter, it will be remembered, left him sleeping upon the Apache blanket, at the bottom of the cave, while he, the lad, went off in pursuit of the wolf, which came so near leading him to destruction, but which, in the end, conducted him to freedom and safety.

The Irishman slept for several hours longer, as soundly as if he lay in his own bed at home. He was sorely in need of sleep, and, having convinced himself that there was no danger to be apprehended, he transferred all his anxiety over to his young friend while he sailed off into the land of dreams. When he awoke and recalled where he was, he spoke to Fred; but, receiving no reply, supposed he was asleep, and passed his hand about in quest of him. After groping several minutes in vacancy, he muttered:

"Be the powers! if he hasn't fell out of bed, as me brother Tom used to remark to the ould gintleman, after he'd kicked me out of the same. The fall ain't far enough to hurt him seriously, but these laddies have a way of getting hurt, where a man couldn't do it, if he tried."

After calling and searching further, he struck a match and held it up. A transient glimpse was gained of an area of several hundred feet, in which, it is needless to say, he saw nothing of his young friend.

"Be the powers! but he strayed away," added Mickey, somewhat impatiently. "He thought there was something that it would pay to chase, and he's gone off, and, of course, will be lost."

With a view to bringing him back, the Irishman called his name, whistled, and, after a time, fired his gun. The echoes were not so loud as when Fred had fired, but the racket was sufficient to make him confident it would reach the ears of the boy, if he were not asleep or injured.

Mickey, as will be seen, formed the right opinion of the action of his young friend, and hoped that he would be able to work his way back to camp, as they called it, without any mishap or assistance from him.

"He thinks there's another door that opens into the sunshine, and that isn't locked, and, if it is, he can pick the kay. He may work away till he becomes weary, and then he'll be back here, and we'll hare to contrive some other way, or it may be that good luck will lead him to the opening for which he sighs. Heaven grant that the same may be the case."

He waited, and watched, and hoped, as the hours passed by, until he began to believe that something serious had happened to him. At intervals he repeated his signals, but on no occasion was there anything like a response.

It was an odd juxtaposition of events that, at the very moment he uttered some of the calls, the despairing kid was doing the same thing, and, although each strained his ears to the utmost, yet neither suspected the truth.

The hours and the time passed on, until happening to look up at the opening, Mickey saw the prepared blanket slowly descending, just as Fred looked upon it from the ridge.

"I'm obliged to yees," he said, in an undertone, "but I don't find myself in pressing naad of the same. I have one here, but if ye insist on my taking that, I'll not quarrel with yees."

He resolved that when it came down within his reach he would cut the lasso, and take it, but before it reached the ground he had changed his mind.

He knew what the intention of the Apaches was, but he was not deceived for an instant.

"I'll not do anything at all," he muttered; "I'll not interfere, where it's so difficult to decide upon me duty, as the owld lady obsarved when the bear got her husband down. I'll let 'em think I'm aslaap, and see what they'll do."

And thus, as the reader already knows, the rolled-up blanket was lowered and raised again without molestation, almost grazing the upturned face of the Irishman as it did so.

"And the next will be one of the spalpeens himself. Begorrah! there he is this minute!"

Just as he anticipated, a short time after the blanket began its descent, enfolding the form of one of the swarthy warriors, the Irishman at once detecting the ruse.

His rifle was brought to his shoulder, but yielding to a whim, which he could hardly explain, he lowered it, without firing, resolved that he would do nothing at all, unless compelled to in self-defense. About this time an idea began to dawn upon him that silence and inaction upon his part might do himself more good than the most vigorous defense.

He might shoot the first Indian, and then the others would only keep themselves out of reach, and he would be no nearer escape than before. On the other hand, if he studiously forced himself into the background, they might begin to believe that he had discovered the means of exit which was unknown to them. He had no fear of not being able to keep out of their way, where he had such abundant room and where no light possibly could reach the interior and reveal his presence to a hundred searchers. If they chose to attempt to carry torches, then he could pick them off at his own convenience.

And so it came about that Mickey stood quietly by, and permitted the whole five Apaches to slide down the rope like so many monkeys, while he raised no hand in the way of protest. Not knowing how many the party numbered, he could not conjecture how many were left when the five had come down, and the business stopped for the time, but he knew, as a matter of course, that they would not enter the cave without leaving reinforcements upon the surface.

By the time the last man landed, Mickey had moved back to a point a hundred yards away from where the group were gathered, where he was seated upon a large rock.

"If any of 'em undertakes to flash a bull's eye in me face, I kin dodge down behind the same," was the way in which the Irishman reasoned it.

At such a time, and in such a place, the faculty of hearing was about the only one that could be counted upon, and, sliding softly off the rock, Mickey applied his ear to the earth. If the Apaches were moving about, the noise made by their feet was so slight that he could not be certain whether they were actually branching out and groping for him, or whether they were the sounds produced by the natural shifting of the feet of a group of men standing together.

Matters stood thus for some time, when the last Indian suddenly came through the opening and plumped down upon the ground below, his start on this journey being such that he was probably considerably shaken up by the involuntary trip.

"Ye spalpeens must be more careful in coming down-stairs," muttered Mickey, who supposed that the whole thing was an accident, as in his own case.

But it was not long before he heard the voice of Fred Munson, calling from above, and, as each word was distinctly heard, there was no room for any misunderstanding of the situation. The Irishman was literally dumfounded.

"Be the powers! if it isn't the most wonderful thing that ever happened, as Mrs. Murphy remarked when Tim came home sober one night. That laddy, in hunting around, has struck upon some hole that leads out, and he's forgot, or else it was so hard to find his way back to me, he has gone round to that place, and now hollers down at me.

"Begorrah," added Mickey, a moment later, "it must be that he shoved that spalpeen overboard, and there isn't anybody left up there in the way of Apaches but one, and he ain't an Apache, but a gintleman named Fred Moonson. Here's to his health, and if this thing gets any more delightful, I'll have to give a whoop and yell, and strike up the Tipperary jig."

The exultant fellow had hard work to keep his spirits under control when he fairly understood the brilliant exploit that had been performed by his young friend.

"It is almost aqual to my gineral coorse," he he added; "but I must try and hold in till I can get the laddy by himself. Then I'll hammer him, out of pure love, as ye may say."

Mickey managed to contain himself, but did not attempt to reply to the direct call which was made upon him. That, in one sense, would have been fatal, as it would have "uncovered" his position. The Irishman was quick-witted, and it occurred to him that the last incident which had happened at the entrance to the cave might be turned to good account. If he continued to remain in the background, the Apaches were likely to conclude that he, too, was beyond their reach.

Thus matters stood until the signal was made to him, when he deemed it wise to make a cautious reply, merely to apprise the lad that he was there within call, and understood the situation through and through.

Mickey was very apprehensive when, some time after, he discovered that one of the Indians was ascending the rope. He was not so apprehensive when he came down again. The result of this repulse was much more decisive than Fred had supposed. The warriors seemed to suspect that they were throwing away time in attempting to outwit one who held such an immense advantage over them, and who was too wide-awake to permit them to steal a march upon him.

The delighted Irishman knew, from the sounds, that the redskins were moving away from the spot, not with the idea of staying away altogether, but that they might engage upon a little reconnoissance which might possibly open the way that they were so anxiously seeking. One of the redskins passed almost within arm's length of him, never suspecting, as a matter of course, that he was brought into such proximity to a mortal enemy. Mickey only breathed until assured that there was quite a distance between him and the Apaches.

"Now it begins to look as though there's a chance for me," he concluded; "and if me laddy will let down the lasso, I'll thry the bootiful experiment of shinning up it, though I much fear me that it will be the same as a greased pole."

He moved with the utmost circumspection toward the spot, being able to locate it by means of the moonlit opening overhead, and when he was near it he halted and listened.

"I don't obsarve that any one is loafing about here, getting in the way of honest folks."

Just then he ran plump against an Apache, whom he did not suspect was so near him.

The redskin uttered a grunt of anger, no doubt suspecting that it was one of his own friends.

As quick as lightning the Irishman drew back and struck a blow that stretched the warrior senseless.

"I'll tache ye to be grunting around here when a gintleman runs again ye. Ye ought to be ashamed of yourself."

Mickey had already strapped his rifle to his back, and, groping about, he felt the end of the lasso dangling in front of his face. The same instant he grasped it and began the ascent.



CHAPTER X.

"HERE WE ARE AGAIN!"

Fred Munson, having been deceived once by the Apache climbing up the rope, was not to be caught again in the same way. When he became certain that a second person was coming up, he grasped his pistol again, and held himself in readiness to "repel boarders," the very instant they appeared.

It soon became evident that this second person, whoever he was, had a serious time in climbing up the rope. He frequently paused as if resting, and this fact led the lad to feel more hopeful than ever that it was his old friend drawing near.

When it became apparent that he was near the top, the curiosity of Fred became so great that he drew himself forward, and, peering down the black throat of the cave, asked, in a whisper:

"I say, Mickey, is that you? Speak, if it is, or give a little whistle."

"Be the powers, but I'm so tired I'm spaachless, wid not even the strength to let out a whistle."

This established the identity of the climber beyond all question, and the words were hardly uttered when the familiar face of the Irishman appeared.

He was exceedingly tired, and the lad reached his hand down to assist him out. It was at this juncture that the Apache, who had run against the fist of Mickey O'Rooney, recovered, and seeing his foe in the act of vanishing, gave a whoop of alarm to his companions, caught up his rifle and fired away. The hasty aim alone prevented a fatal result, the bullet clipping the clothing of the Irishman.

"Fire away, ye spalpeens, for all the good it may do ye," called out the Irishman, who at this moment clambered out of range and sank down upon the ground.

"Begorrah, I'm as tired as Jim O'Shaughnessey after his friendly match with his wife," gasped Mickey, speaking shortly and rapidly, as best he could, while he leaned over upon his elbow, until he could regain his strength and wind.

It required but a short time, when he reached his hand to the lad, and shook it for the third or fourth time, smiling at the same time in his old jolly way, as he rose rather unsteadily upon his pins.

"I'll have to wait a while till the kink gets out of me legs, before I give ye the Donnybrook jig, but I make the engagement wid ye, and the thing is down for performance, do ye mind that? And now, me laddy, we must thravel. Are ye hungry?"

"Yes."

"I have a bite saved that'll do ye till the morrow. When ye waltzed out the cave and left me to meself, I felt there was no knowing how long I'd have to stay behind, so I knocked off both eating and drinking, with the idea of getting used to going without anything."

As they were able to talk more understandingly, the two explained their experiences since they had parted. They could not fail to be interesting in both cases. When they had finished, Mickey O'Rooney had about recovered from the terrible strain he had undergone in clambering out the cave, barring a little ache in his arms and legs.

"Now, me laddy, we must emigrate, as there ain't anything to be gained by loafing round here, as the gals used to tell the chaps when they tried to cut me out. The first thing to larn is whether the hoss that I lift some distance away is still there cropping the grass. If he is, then we shall have small work in making our way back to New Boston; but if he has emigrated ahead of us thar, we must hunt for others."

"There's no need of going that far."

"Why not?"

"Because the mustangs of the Apaches are right over yonder behind those rocks."

"That's good; let's take a look at the same."

They hurried over to the spot where the half dozen mustangs were tethered. They were lying upon the ground, taking their sleep, having finished a bounteous meal. The intelligent creatures showed their training by throwing up their heads the instant the two came in sight, and several gave utterance to whinneys, no doubt with the purpose of apprising their masters of the approach of strangers. None of them rose to their feet, however, and Mickey and Fred moved about, inspecting them as best they could in the moonlight, with the purpose of selecting the best.

"They're all a fine lot, as the neighbors used to say, after inspicting me father's family, and it's hard to make up your mind which is the best, but here is one that shtrikes me fancy. Get up wid ye."

The steed, spoken to in this peremptory manner, leaped to his feet, and stood in all his graceful and beautiful proportions, an equine gem, which could not fail to command admiration.

"I think he'll suit," said the Irishman, after a careful examination. "I think he can run as well as any of 'em. I'll tell you what we'll do, me laddy. We'll both mount this one, and ride till we reach the place where I lift mine, when we'll have one apiece."

"But if yours isn't there?"

"Then we'll kaap this one betwaan us, as the gals used to say, when they quarreled over me."

"Hadn't I better take one of the horses, and if we find yours, why, we can turn one of these loose, and we shall be all right, no matter how the things turn out?"

"It's not a bad idaa," assented the Irishman. "Pick yours out, and then we'll turn the others loose."

"Why will you do that?"

"What's the use of laving them here? Them spalpeens will find their way out of the cave before long, and then they will strike straight for these animals, and, if they happen to get out pretty soon, they'll make trouble with us. We might as well let 'em walk awhile."

"How are they going to get out?"

"Didn't ye lave the lasso hanging down into the cave?"

"I declare, I never thought of that!" exclaimed the affrighted lad. "Why didn't you tell me?"

And he started to repair the oversight, when Mickey caught his arm and checked him.

"Not so, me son; lave it as it is. If we should go away and lave the spalpeens down there without the rope, they might never find the way out, and would starve to death, and it would always grieve me to think I had starved six Apaches to death, instead of affording meself some enjoyment by cracking 'em over the head wid a shillelah."

"I should be sorry to do that," replied Fred, who comprehended the cruelty of leaving the poor fellows to perish, as they were likely to do if left without the means of escape; "but, if we leave the rope hanging there, the whole party will be up here before we can get out of the way, and then what shall we do?"

"Niver fear, niver fear," said Mickey, with a wave of his hand and a magisterial shake of the head. "The spalpeens have got enough of climbing up there for a while. They've gone off on a hunt through the cavern for the place where you crawled out, and they'll kaap at that till morning, and then, if there's no show for 'em, they'll come back, and begin to fool around the rope again."

The lad had little difficulty in deciding upon his steed, which was a coal-black mustang, lithe and willowy, and apparently of a good disposition, although that was necessarily a matter of conjecture, for the present. There were no saddles upon any of the horses, and nothing but the rudest kind of bridle, consisting of a thong of twisted bull's hide, and reaching away to some limb or tree, so as to give the animal plenty of grazing area. The lariats of the other four were cut—so that, when they arose, they would find themselves at liberty to go whither they chose—after which the two approached their respective prizes and prepared to mount.

Both were good riders, although, being compelled to go it bareback, they felt some misgivings as to the result. Fred's mustang was rather under size, so that he was able to vault upon him from the ground without difficulty. After patting him on the neck and speaking soothingly to him, with a view to disarming him of all timidity, the lad leaped lightly upon his back.

The steed showed at once that he did not like this familiarity, and reared and plunged and shook his head in a vicious way, but he toned down somewhat after a time, and seemed disposed to compromise matters until he learned something about his rider.

"Ye're going to become a good rider—that is, in the course of twenty or thirty years," remarked Mickey, who had been watching his young friend closely, "if ye practice aich day in those thirty years; but I want you to observe my shtyle—note how complately I bring the animal under, how docile he becomes, how mild, how gentle, how lamblike."

And with these rather pompous observations, he laid his hand upon the mane of his mustang, and at one bound bestrode him, catching the lariat after the manner of one who was determined to have no nonsense about it.

"Now note how quick I'll subdue him, how afeard he'll be, you can't goad him into trying to throw me. Talk about Rarey breaking that old horse Cruiser, that used to ate his keeper every day for breakfast, he couldn't compare wid mesilf."

Before Mickey had time to finish his observation, the heels of the mustang went up almost perpendicularly in the air, and with such suddenness that Mickey was thrown a dozen feet over his head, alighting upon his hands and knees.

Fred was amused beyond expression at the discomfiture of his boasting friend, who was not a little astonished at the manner in which he had been overthrown.

"Turns up," he said, as he gathered himself on his feet again, "that I was a little mistook. Such accidents will happen now and then, and it isn't very kind for a spalpeen like yourself to laugh at me sorrow."

"I can't help it, Mickey, but I'm afraid I can't stick to the back of this horse. He seems scared and mad, and his back feels mighty slippery without any saddle or blanket."

"Maybe, if I get on wid ye, the weight of us both will hold him down."

The mustang which hard thrown the Irishman continued to flourish his heels and disport himself in such a lively style, that his spirit became contagious, and the four, who were yet upon the ground, now came to their feet, and after some plunging and rearing, made a rush down the slope, and were soon out of sight.

The animal ridden by the lad showed a disposition to join them, but the rider resisted, and managed to hold him, until at the opportune moment, Mickey placed himself on his back, and, as he was really a good horseman, and used vigorous means, he speedily managed to bring him under control. Turning his head toward the ridge, they started him forward, pausing near the mouth of the cavern long enough to gather up one of the blankets lying there, as it was likely to be useful at no distant time.



CHAPTER XI.

THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS.

The moon was high in the sky, and it was near midnight. O'Rooney, who had taken upon himself the task of guiding the mustang, continued him on up the ridge, directly toward the spot where Fred had lain so long watching the action of the Apaches gathered around the opening of the cave.

The mustang walked along quite obediently, seeming to feel the load no more than if it was only one half as great. But those animals are like their native masters—cunning and treacherous, ready to take advantage of their riders whenever it happens to come in their way.

"Which is the raison I cautions ye to be riddy for a fall," said Mickey, after referring to some of the peculiarities of these steeds of the Southwest. "The minute he gits it into his head that we ain't paying attention, he'll rear up on his fore-feet, and walk along that way for half a mile. Not having any saddle, we'll have to slide over his neck, unless I can brace me feet agin his ears, and ride along standing straight up."

The constant expectation of being flung over the head of a horse is not the most comforting sensation that one can have, and the lad clung fast to his friend in front, determined not to go, unless in his company. Upon reaching the top of the ridge, the horse was reined up for a few minutes, as Mickey, like the mariner at sea, was desirous of taking an observation, so as to prevent himself going astray.

"Can you remember how you were placed?" asked the lad, after he had spent several minutes in the survey; "that is, do you know which way to go for the horse you left eating grass?"

"I was a little puzzled at first, as me father obsarved to the school-teacher when he said I had been a good boy, but I see how it is now. It must have been that I got a little turned round when I was down in the basemint of these mountains, but I see how it is now. Right yonder," he added, pointing toward the Northwest, "is where I left my hoss, and there is where I hope I'll find him again."

"Is the road so that we can ride the mustang all the way there, or must we walk?"

"I remember I come right along some kind of a path, made by animals, after leaving the beast. I s'pose it's the route taken by the crathurs in going to the water, for there's a splendid spring right there, and the path that I was just tilling you 'bout leads straight to it."

"Then keep the horse from throwing us off, and we're all right. After we find your horse, Mickey, or don't find him, what are we to do, then?"

"Set sail for New Boston."

"But we can't ride through these mountains, if we don't find the pass."

"And the same is what we're going to do, barring that it hasn't been lost yet."

"Are you sure you know the way to it from where you left your horse? I've been hunting for it for hours, but couldn't any more tell where it was than the man in the moon. What course would you have to take to reach it?"

"Right off yonder," replied Mickey, pointing to the left.

"And I was sure that it was here," said Fred, pointing his hand in nearly an opposite direction.

"Which the same is a good raison why you're wrong. When you git lost, and think you're on the right way, ye may be sure that ye're wrong; and after figuring the whole thing over, and getting sartin of the right coorse, all you've got to do is not to take it, and ye're sartin of saving yerself."

"Then, according to that, you ought not to take the route which you have said is the right one."

"I'm spaking for lost spalpeens like yoursilf," said Mickey, severely. "I haven't been lost since I parted company with Soot Simpson, and, begorrah, that minds me that we ought to saa something of him. Just look around and obsarve whether he is standing anywhere beckoning to us."

Both used their eyes to the extent of their ability, but were unable to discover anything that bore a suspicious resemblance to a man.

So far as they could judge, they were entirely alone in this vast solitude.

"Do you expect to meet Sut very soon?"'

"Av coorse I do; why shouldn't I?"

"But he went another way from you altogether after Lone Wolf."

"That's just it. He wint another way, and wint wrong, and he has been gone long 'nough to find out the same."

"When he will turn back and follow you?"

"As soon as he finds he's wrong, he'll go right, and as I wint right, he'll be on my heels."

"But you know both of us have strayed a good deal off the track, and we have traveled in many places, where we haven't made the slightest trail. How is he going to follow us then?"

The Irishman gave utterance to a scornful exclamation.

"I've been with that Soot Simpson long enough to learn something. I've saan some specimens of what he kin do. Rocks don't make no difference to him. When he gits on the track of a wild bird, if it don't take extra pains to dodge and double, he'll foller its trail through the air. Oh, he's there all the time, and the wonder with me is that he hasn't turned up before."

"What would he have done had he come along and found us both in the cave, and the Apaches watching?"

"He would have tracked that wolf back to his hole, come in and fetched us out, and then slipped up behind the six, and tumbled them all in like so many tenpins."

"If he's such a wonderful man as that, it's a pity we couldn't have kept him with us all the time, and if we do run against him, we can afford to stop thinking about Apaches, as they will be of no account."

"Yees are right; but the trouble is to find him, as the man said when the British Government condemned John Mitchel, and him thousands of miles away in Ameriky. This thramping about at night in the mountains isn't the aisiest way to diskiver a man, and it's him that will have to find us, instead of we him. But we'll keep it up."

If the Apache mustang which they were riding meditated any mischief, he seemed to be of the opinion that the occasion was not the most suitable. He walked along with great docility and care, picking his way with a skill that was wonderful. Several times they approached places where it seemed impossible for an equine to go forward, but the horse scarcely hesitated, toiling onward like an Alpine chamois, until, at last, they drew up in a small valley, through the middle of which ran a small stream, that sparkled brightly in the moonlight.

"Here we are," said Mickey. "here's the spot where I left my cratur a couple of days ago, and where I don't see him just now. Use your eyes a bit, and tell me whether you obsarve him."

Fred was scarcely less anxious than his friend to recover the steed, for, recalling his experience in that line, he had good reason to mistrust Indian horses. It would be very awkward, when they should find a party of Apaches howling and rushing down upon them, to have the animal turn calmly about and trot back to his former friends, carrying his two riders into captivity, or leaving them to shift for themselves.

Nothing could be seen of the creature, but there was a fringe of wood on the opposite side where he might be concealed, and Mickey slid off the blanket with the intention of hunting for him.

"Don't let this spalpeen give ye the slip," he cautioned the lad, as he gave the lariat into his hand; "for if mine is gone, this is the only one we have to depend on, and we can't spare him."

Fred felt a little uncomfortable when he found himself alone and astride of the fiery steed, which pricked up his ears as though he meditated mischief; but the horse seemed to think better of it, and continued so quiet that the young rider ventured to transfer his attention from him to Mickey, who was moving across the open space in the direction of the wood upon the opposite side.

The moonlight was so clear that he could be as plainly seen, almost, as if it were midday. As he moved along, he brought his rifle around to the front, so that he could use it at a moment's need, for he could not but see the probability that, if his horse had been lately disturbed, it was likely that those who did so were still in the vicinity, and no place was more likely to be used for a covert than the same patch of timber which he was approaching.

"Be the powers! but it looks a little pokerish!" he said to himself, slowing his gait, and surveying the wood with no little distrust. "There might be a dozen of the spalpeens slaaping there wid one eye open, or all sitting up and expicting me."

He had proceeded so far however, that it was as dangerous to turn back as it was to go on, for if any enemies were there, they were so close at hand that they could easily capture or shoot him before he could reach his horse. He was scarcely moving, and doing his utmost to penetrate the deep shadow, when, beyond all question, he heard a movement among the trees. He paused as if he had been shot and cocked his rifle, looking toward the point from whence came the noise.

"Aisy there, now," he said in a solemn voice. "I won't stand any of your thricks. I'm savage, and when I'm that way I'm dangerous, so if yees are there spake out, or else come out like a man, and tell me your name, be the token of which mine is Mickey O'Rooney from Ireland."

This characteristic summons produced no response, and, feeling the peculiar peril of his exposed position, the Irishman determined upon changing it and securing the shelter of a tree for himself. It was not prudent to move directly toward the spot which gave forth the rustling sound, as that would be likely to draw out a shot from a foe if he desired to avoid a personal encounter. Accordingly, the Irishman made what might be termed a flank movement by turning to the right, running rapidly several paces and then diving in among the trees, as though he were plunging into the water for a bath.

The few minutes occupied in making this change were those which Mickey felt were of great danger; for, if he should reach the wood and find himself opposed to but a single man, or even two, the situation would not be so uneven by any means. No shots were fired, and he drew a great sigh of relief when he gained the desired covert.

"Now I can dodge back and forth, and work me way up to them," he concluded; "and when they stick their heads out from behind the trees, I'll whack 'em for 'em, just as we used to do at Donnybrook when the fun began."

He waited where he was for some time, in the expectation that his foe would reveal himself by an attempt to draw out. But if there is any one thing which distinguishes a scout, whether white or red, at such a time, it is his patience. It is like that of the Esquimaux, who will sit for sixteen hours, without stirring, beside an airhole in the ice, waiting for a seal to appear. Mickey O'Rooney was not burdened with overmuch patience, and acted upon the principle of Mohammed going to the mountain. He began picking his way through the shadows and among the trees, determined to keep forward until the mystery was solved.



CHAPTER XII.

THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. CONTINUED.

When Mickey found himself under the shelter of the trees, something like his old confidence returned.

"As I obsarved some minutes ago, it's mesilf that's not going to stand any fooling," he added, loud enough for the redskins to hear. "Whither ye're there or not, ye ought to spake, and come out and smoke the calomel of peace, and give a spalpeen a chance to crack your head, as though ye're his brother; but if ye're up to any of your thricks, make ready to go to your hunting-grounds."

By this time he was within a dozen feet of the spot whence came the rustling that so disturbed him, and was staring with all his eyes in quest of the redskins. In spite of the bright moonlight, the Irishman could not be certain of anything he saw. There were trees of large size, behind any of which an Indian might have shielded himself effectually, and it was useless for Mickey to look unless his man chose to show himself.

The Irishman had all the natural recklessness of his race, but he had been in the Apache country long enough to learn to tone it down, for that was the country where the most fatal attribute a man could have was recklessness or rashness. In many instances of conflict with Indians it is worse than cowardice.

But, in the face of Mickey's assurance to the contrary, he did not feel altogether easy about the Apaches he had left at the cave. His humanity had prevented him from depriving them of means of escape, and although he was inclined to believe that they were not likely to climb the lasso until many hours should elapse, there could be no certainty about it. They might do so within an hour after the departure of the man and boy.

It was this reflection that caused Mickey to act with something of his natural rashness. He felt that he could not afford to wait to fight the thing out on scientific principles, so he determined, since he was so close, to force it to an issue without delay. Accordingly, he prepared himself to charge.

"I've been too kind already in giving ye warnings," he added, gathering himself for the effort, "and if your indifference causes your ruin, it's your own fault, as the bull remarked when he come down on a butt agin the engine."

Compressing his lips, Mickey made his start, forcing out a few words, as he would shoot bullets on the way.

"Nobody but a spalpeen of a coward would keep out of sight when he saw a head coming down on him in such tempting style as mine. I can't understand how he could."

In his furious hunt for antagonists, the belligerent fellow did not think of looking upon the ground. He made the blunder of Captain John Smith, of the Jamestown Colony, who, in retreating from Powhatan's warriors, became mired, with the eventual result of making Pocahontas famous, and securing an infinite number of namesakes of the captain himself.

Mickey O'Rooney had scarcely begun his charge when his feet came into violent collision with a body upon the ground, and he turned a complete somersault over it.

"Be the powers! but that's a dirty thrick!" he exclaimed, gathering himself up as hurriedly as possible, and recovering very speedily from his natural bewilderment. "A man who drops in the ring without a blow is always ruled out, and be that token ye're not entitled to the respect of illegant gintlemen."

During the utterance of these words the Irishman had carefully returned, boiling over with indignation and fight, and at this juncture he discovered the obstruction which had brought him to grief.

So far as appearances went, there was no Indian nearer than the cave. It was his own horse that had made the noise which first alarmed him. While the equine was stretched upon the ground, peacefully sleeping, his bumptious owner, in charging over his body, had stumbled and fallen.

Mickey was thrown "all in a heap" for a minute or two, when he found how the case stood, and then he laughed to himself as he fully appreciated the situation.

"Well, well, well, I feel as chape as Jerry McConnell when he hugged and kissed a gal for two hours, one evening, and found it was his wife, and she felt chaaper yet, for she thought all the time that it was Mickey O'Shaughnessy. I suppose me old swateheart," he added, as he stooped down and patted the head of his horse, "that ye've been living so high here for two or three days that ye're too fat to be good for anything. Come, up wid ye, ye old spalpeen!"

The mustang recognized the voice of his master, and obeyed as promptly as a child, coming upon his feet with the nimbleness of a racer, and ready to do what he was bidden. Mickey led him out into the moonlight, when he left him standing, while he went a short distance for the saddle and bridle, which he had concealed at the time of leaving the spot. They were found just as he had left them, and he returned in high feather, secured them in a twinkling upon his animal and galloped back to where the lad was waiting.

"Ye haven't seen or heard anything of redskins, have ye, while I was procuring my cratur?"

"Nothing at all," replied the lad; "but I heard you talking pretty loud, so I suppose you must have found several."

"No," answered Mickey, who did not care about explaining the whole affair. "I'm always in the habit of exchanging a few words wid the cratur when I maats, and such was the case a short time since, when I met him, after being away so long."

"Well, Mickey, we haven't any time to spare."

"Ye're right, my laddy; all you've got to do is to folly me."

With this he headed his mustang at precisely right angles to the course they followed in making their way to the spot; and Fred, who expected all sorts of trouble in the way of traveling, noticed that he was following some sort of path or trail, along which his horse trod as easily as upon the open prairie. While this was an advantage in one respect it had its disadvantage in another. The presence of a trail in that part of the world implied that it was one made and traveled by Indians, who were likely to be encountered at any moment, and Mickey was not insensible to the peril. But, in the present instance, there seemed to be no other means of getting along, and thus, in one sense, they were forced into it. The probabilities, however, were that they would soon emerge into safer territory, where it would be possible to take some precautions against pursuers.

For some time the two galloped along without speaking. The hoofs of their mustangs rang upon the rocks, and rattled over the gravel, and, in the still night, could have been heard a long distance away. While the Irishman kept as good a lookout ahead as possible, Fred Munson did his best to guard their rear. He kept continually glancing over his shoulder in the expectation of seeing some of their enemies, but nothing of the kind occurred, and before he anticipated it, they emerged into what seemed a deep valley, with high rocks upon both sides. Mickey drew up, and allowed his young friend to move alongside.

"Do ye mind ever having seen this place before?" he asked.

"I don't remember anything about this country, and all I ask is that we may get out of it as soon as possible."

"But don't ye mind ever having been here before?"

Thus questioned, Fred scanned his surroundings as best he could, but there was nothing that he could identify, and he so said, adding:

"I'm sure I've never been here before."

"And I'm sure ye have. This is the path that Lone Wolf come along, and that ye was hunting for when ye got lost, and fell into the basement story of the mountain."

"Oh, this is the pass, is it?" exclaimed the delighted lad; "then we have a clear road before us straight to New Boston."

"Clear of all but one thing."

"What's that?"

"The red spalpeens; they're always turning up when you don't expect 'em, and don't want 'em."

"How far are we away from the cave, where we left the half dozen Apaches?"

"I don't think it's much more than a mile, though it may be a mile and a half."

"Well, that's very good; we've got that much start, and it's worth having."

"And there's where ye're mistook, as the gals used to obsarve when anybody tried to run down my beauty. The path that we come along, ye'll mind, makes many turns and twists, and the ind of it all is that it strikes the pass on the other side of the cave, and we've got to ride right by the spot which we lift."

This was not cheering information, although, everything considered, the two had cause to congratulate themselves upon their extraordinary success up to this time.

The night was about gone, and, while their mustangs halted, they observed that it was growing light in the east. They would be forced to ride through the dangerous territory by day, so that the risk of detection would be proportionately greater if their enemies should be in the vicinity. Both the mustangs were fresh and vigorous, however, having enjoyed an unusually long rest, with plenty of food, and they were good for many hours of speed and endurance. The one ridden by Fred had behaved in a very seemly fashion, and there was ground for the hope that he would keep up the line of conduct to the end. Still there could be no certainty of what he would do in the presence of the Apaches.

"We'll take it aisy," said Mickey, as the two started off at an easy gallop. "We'll not be afther putting 'em to a run till we have to do the same, so that when there's naad for their spaad, we shall have it at command." This prudent suggestion was carried out. Their horses dropped into a sweeping gallop that was as easy as an ordinary walk. The riders kept their senses awake, talking only a little, and then in guarded voices.

As they galloped along the sun rose, and the day promised to be as warm and pleasant as those which had preceded it. The sky was obscured only by a few fleecy clouds, while the deep blue beyond was as beautiful as that of Italy. Drawing near the cave in the mountain, they pulled their horses down to a walk and carefully guided them into the softest places, so as to make the noise of their hoofs as slight as possible. Nothing occurred until they were a short distance beyond the dangerous spot, when Mickey spoke.

"Do you obsarve that stream there?" he asked, pointing to a rather deep brook which ran across the pass, and lost itself in the rocks upon the opposite side. "Well, that's the water that comes through the cave over the cascade, and that I expicted to swim out by, and I'm going to find out what me chances were."



CHAPTER XIII.

IN THE NICK OF TIME.

Leaving his mustang in charge of Fred, the Irishman turned to the right, and followed the stream into the rocks. The course was so winding that he speedily disappeared from sight. The boy, who was compelled to sit still and await his return, at perhaps the most dangerous portion of the road, felt anything but comfortable over the erratic proceeding of his friend. But, fortunately, the latter had been gone but a short time when he reappeared, hurrying forward as if somebody was at his heels.

"It's all right," he remarked, as he sprang into the saddle, took up the reins, and started on. "I think the Apaches are there, though I can't be sartin; but I found out what I wanted to l'arn."

Then he explained that he followed up the stream to the place where it came from beneath the rocks, which formed a part of the wall of the cave, where a curious fact attracted his attention. In its passage beneath the stone the tunnel widened and flattened, so that, where it shot forth to the sunlight again, its width was some twenty feet, and its depth only a few inches. The appearance it presented was very much like that of the gates of a mill-pond when they have been slightly raised to allow a discharge of water beneath. Through the passage-way thus afforded no living person could have forced his way; and, had Mickey O'Rooney attempted it, nothing in the world could have saved him from drowning. The Irishman himself realized it, and was thankful enough that he had refrained from making the desperate attempt.

The two continued their sweeping gallop for several hours, during which they did not catch a glimpse of Indians, but they were alarmed by hearing the reports of guns at no great distance on the right. The firing was irregular, sometimes several shots being heard together, and then they were more of a dropping character. This showed that a fight of some kind was going on, but as to its precise nature they could only conjecture. It might be that a party of Comanches and Apaches, or Kiowas, or hunters were enjoying a hot time, but the two friends were glad to get out of the neighborhood as speedily as possible. At noon they enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that they had made good and substantial progress on the way home. There was an abundance of grass and water, and when the sun was overhead they went into camp.

"I'm as hungry as a panther that has been fasting for a month," said Mickey, as he dismounted; "and I haven't got a mouthful of food lift. There ain't any use of a chap starving to death to accommodate anybody else, and I don't mane to do the same."

Fred Munson's hunger was scarcely less than his, but the boy would have been willing to have undergone still more, rather than incur the risk that was now inevitable. But Mickey saw nothing to be gained by such a course and contended that they should give their attention to the wants of their bodies, before they were weakened by fasting and fatigue.

Mickey promised not to be absent long, and then started in search of provender. Game was abundant in that part of the world, and he was confident that much time would not be required to bring down some toothsome dainty.

"He has an uncomfortable way of running off and leaving a fellow alone," muttered Fred, as he watched the vanishing figure of his friend. "I haven't anything but my revolver, and only two shots left in that, and it seems to me that this is about the worst place we could stop."

The point where they camped was in the pass, which, at that point, widened considerably. The right wall curved far inward in a semi-circular shape, the opposite remaining the same, the gorge looking as if an immense slice had been scooped out of its northern boundary. The rocks on every hand ranged from a dozen to a hundred feet in height, with numerous openings, through which a horseman could easily pick his way. The tops were covered with vegetation, the greater portion of which was vigorous and dense.

Fred found himself standing in an immense amphitheatre, as one can imagine how the gladiators of Rome stood in the Coliseum, when an audience of over a hundred thousand were seated and looking down upon them. He could not but note the helpless situation a party of men would be in if caught where he was.

"If a company of United States Cavalry should camp here, and the Indians opened on them from the rocks above, they would have to stand and be shot down, one after another, or else run the gauntlet and be picked off in the same way."

The appearance of the ground showed that the spot was a favorite camping-site of the Indians. Fred, for a time, suspected that it was the place where Lone Wolf and his band had spent the first night out from New Boston; but an examination showed that it did not correspond in many points. The remains of charred wood, of bleaching bones and ashes proved that many a camp-fire had been kindled. And, in all probability, every one of them had warmed the shins and toasted the food of the red cut-throats of that section.

The two mustangs were tethered near one side of the space where there was grass and water, and the lad set about it to select a proper place in which to build their camp-fire. There was no trouble in determining this; but, when he started to gather wood, he was surprised to discover that there was much less than he supposed. The former tenants of the place had cleared it up pretty thoroughly.

"There is plenty of wood over yonder," he said to himself, looking in the direction taken by Mickey O'Rooney; "and where there is so much growing there must be some upon the ground. I'll go over and gather some, and have the fire all ready when he comes back."

It was quite a walk from where he stood to the side of the semicircular widening of the pass, and as he went over it he was surprised to find it greater than it appeared. When he picked his way between the rocks, and began clambering among the trees and vegetation, he concluded that he was fully two hundred yards from where the mustangs were grazing.

However, he did not allow himself to lose any time in speculation and wonderment, but set to work at once to gather wood with which to kindle a fire in readiness for the return of Mickey. There was enough around him to afford all he needed and he was engaged in leisurely collecting an armful when he was startled by the rattling of the leaves behind him.

The wood was dropped on the instant, and the alarmed lad wheeled about to face his new danger. Instead of two or three Indians, as he had anticipated, he saw an enormous grizzly bear, about a dozen feet in the rear, coming directly toward him, with very little doubt of his purpose.

Fred had no thought of anything of this character, and for a time he was paralyzed with terror, unable to speak or stir. These precious seconds were improved by the huge animal, which continued lumbering heavily forward toward the boy. Bruin had his jaws apart and his red tongue lolling out, while a guttural grunt was occasionally heard, as if the beast was anticipating the crunching of the tender flesh and bones of the lad.

Before the latter was within reach, however, he had recovered his usual activity, and, with a bound and a yell of terror, Fred started in the direction of the clearing, where he had left the mustangs, and where he had intended to kindle the camp-fire. But the enormous, bulky creature, although swinging along in his awkward fashion, still made good speed, and gained so rapidly upon the boy that he almost abandoned hope of escape.

At this critical moment Fred thought of his revolver, and he whipped it out in a twinkling. Whirling about, he took quick aim and discharged both barrels almost in the face of the brute. Then, flinging the pistol against his leather nose, he turned back and continued his flight at the utmost bent of his speed. Both bullets struck the brute and wounded him, but not fatally, nor, indeed, enough to check his advance.



The grizzly bear, as found in his native wilds, is killed with extreme difficulty, and the only thing that seemed to affect the monster in the present instance was the flash of the pistol in his eyes. He paused, and, rearing on his hind legs, snorted, snuffed, and pawed his nose as if the bullets were splinters which he was seeking to displace. Then, with an angry growl, he dropped on all fours and resumed his pursuit of the author of his confusion and hurts. The wounds incensed the brute, and he plunged along at a faster rate than before, gaining so rapidly that there could be no doubt as to the result.

Being without any weapon at all, there seemed but one hope for Fred, and that was to reach his mustang in time to mount and avail himself of his speed. For a hundred feet or so he ran down a rapid slope, between the trees and rocks, until he reached the camping site, where he had a run of a couple of hundred yards across a comparatively level plain to reach the point where his animal was awaiting him.

In going down this wooded slope, the smaller size of the boy gave him considerable advantage. Yet, so well did the grizzly succeed that he reached the spot less than twenty feet in his rear, and, heading directly for him, at once proceeded to decrease the distance still further. This placed the question of escape by superior speed upon the part of the lad as among the impossibilities, and it began to look very much as if his race were run.

At this juncture, as if all the fates had combined against him, Fred, while glancing backward over his shoulder, stumbled and fell. He sprang up as hastily as possible, but the loss of ground was irreparable. As he looked back he saw that the colossal beast was so close that it seemed that one sweep of his paw would smite the terrified fugitive from the face of the earth.

It was a critical moment indeed, and the crack of the rifle from the wood, which the pursuer and pursued had just left, was not a breath of time too soon. Aimed by one who knew the vulnerable points of such a creature, and by someone whose skill was unsurpassed, the leaden messenger crashed its way through bone and muscle to the seat of life. The brute, which was ready to fall upon and devour the young fugitive, pitched heavily forward and rolled upon the ground in the throes of death.

Fred did not realize his delivery until he had gone some distance further and looked back and saw the black mass motionless upon the ground. After some hesitation, he then turned and walked distrustfully back to where it lay.

He found the beast stone-dead, a rill of blood from beneath the fore-leg showing where some one's bullet had done the business. The lad recalled the sound of the gun which had reached his ear.

"That was the best shot for me that Mickey ever made," he muttered, looking around for his friend.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

"Mickey must always have his fun," added Fred after failing to detect him. "Instead of coming out at once and letting me know how he came to do it, he fires the lucky shot, and then waits to see how I will act. My gracious! he is a bouncer!"

This last remark was excited by the carcass, which he kicked, and which shook like a mountainous mass of jelly; and as he passed around it he gained a fair idea of the immense proportions of the bear, in whose grasp he would have been as helpless as in that of a royal Bengal tiger.

"Whew! but he came mighty close to me! When I fell down I expected to feel his paws on me before I could get up. In a few seconds more it would have been all up with me."

Several minutes passed, and nothing was seen of the Irishman, whereupon the lad concluded he might as well go back and gather the wood, which would be needed at the camp-fire.

"I wonder if there's any more of them," he muttered, as he began picking his way among the rocks. "If there are, why Mickey must look out for me."

He found the sticks just as he had thrown them down and he proceeded to regather them, keeping a careful watch for another dangerous visitor. All remained quiet, however, and, making his way down the wooded slope into the open area, he looked back and found that he was still alone. So it continued until he returned to where the two mustangs were tethered. There he carefully adjusted the sticks and prepared everything, after which he began to feel some impatience at the non-appearance of his friend.

"He must see more fun in that kind of thing than I do. There's no telling what has become of those six Apaches we left down in the cave. I feel sure that they've got above ground again. It won't take long for them to find their mustangs, or some other horses, and they may be a mile away, and there may be other parties close by. Halloa!"

Fred thought that he had no matches about his person; but he was making a sort of aimless hunt when he found a solitary lucifer at the bottom of his pocket. This he carefully struck against the rock behind him, and in a few minutes the camp-fire was started and burning merrily.

As he sat down to wait he looked toward the point where the Irishman had vanished from sight. There he was, bearing on his shoulders some choice sections of a young antelope he had shot, although Fred recalled that he had not heard the report of his gun, except when the grizzly was shot. As Mickey came along over the same path taken by the boy, he was forced to make a detour around the carcass of the bear. He paused to survey it, his whole manner betraying great astonishment, as if he had never beheld anything of the kind. He walked around the body several times, punched it with his foot, and finally, grasping his twenty pounds of meat in his right hand, approached the camp-fire.

Here he at once began the preparations for broiling it. The antelope had been of goodly size and he had cut out the most luscious portions, so as to avoid carrying back any waste material. He had a great deal more than both could eat, it is true, but it was a commendable custom with the Irishman to lay in a stock against emergencies that were likely to arise.

While thus employed, it would have been impossible for Mickey to hold his tongue.

"Begorrah, but it was queer, was the same, the way I came to cotch this gintleman. I hunted him a little ways, when he made a big jump, and I thought had got a long ways off, but when I came to folly him, I found he had cornered himself among the rocks, where there was no show of getting out, except by coming back on me. The minute I showed mesilf, he made a rush for me arms, just as all the purty gals in Tipperary used to do when I came along the street. An antelope can't do much, but I don't care about their coming down on me in that style, and so I pulled up and let drive. He was right on me when I pulled trigger, and he made one big jump that carried him clear over my head, and landed him stone dead on the other side."

"That was a good shot, but not as good as when you brought down the grizzly bear at my heels."

Mickey O'Rooney was particularly busy just then with his culinary operations, and he stared at the lad with an expression of comical amazement that made the young fellow laugh.

"Begorrah, why don't ye talk sinse?" added Mickey, impatiently. "I've heard Soot Simpson say that if ye only put your shot in the right spot, ye don't want but one of 'em to trip the biggest grizzly that ever navigated. I was going to obsarve that ye had been mighty lucky to send in your two pistol-shots just where they settled the business, though I s'pose the haythen was so close on ye whin ye fired that ye almost shoved the weapon into his carcass."

"I shot him, Mickey, before I fairly started to run, but he didn't mind it any more than if I spit in his face. It was your own shot that did the business."

"Me own shot!" repeated Mickey, still staring with an astonished expression. "I never fired any shot at the baste, and never saw him till a few minutes ago, when I was coming this way."

It was Fred Munson's turn to be astonished, and he asked, in his amazed, wondering way:

"Who, then, fired the shot that killed him? I didn't."

"I thought ye did the same, for it was not mesilf."

The lad was more puzzled than ever. He saw that Mickey was in earnest, and was telling him the truth, and each, in fact, understood that he had been under a misapprehension as to who had slain the grizzly bear.

"The beast was right on me," continued Fred, "and I didn't think there was any chance for me, when I heard the crack of a rifle from the bushes, and, looking back, saw that the bear was down on the ground, making his last kick."

Mickey let the meat scorch, while he stopped to scratch his head, as was his custom when he was in a mental fog.

"Begorrah, but that is queer, as me mither used to obsarve when she found she had not been desaved by belaving what we childer told her. There was somebody who was kind enough to knock over the grizzly at the most convanient season for ye, and then he doesn't choose to send over his card wid his post-office address on."

"Who do you think it was, Mickey?"

"It must have been some red spalpeen that took pity on ye. Who knows but it was Lone Wolf himself?"

Both looked about them in a scared, inquiring way, but could see nothing of their unknown friend or enemy, as the case might be.

"I tell you, Mickey, that it makes me feel as if we ought to get out of here."

"Ye're right, and we'll just swally some of this stuff, and then we'll 'light out."

He tossed the lad a goodly-sized piece of meat, which, if anything, was overdone. Both ate more rapidly than was consistent with hygiene, their eyes continually wandering over the rocks and heights around them, in quest of their seemingly ever-present enemies, the Apaches. It required but a few moments for them to, complete their dinner. Mickey, in accordance with his custom, carefully folded up what was left, and, taking a drink from the stream which ran near at hand, they sprang upon the backs of their mustangs, and headed westward in the direction of New Boston, provided such a settlement was still in existence by the grace of Lone Wolf, leader of the Apaches.

"Now," said Mickey, whose spirits seemed to rise when he found himself astride of his trusty mustang again, "if we don't have any bad luck, we ought to be out of the mountains by dark."

"And after that?"

"Then a good long ride across the prairie, and we'll be back again wid the folks."

"How glad I am that father isn't there, that he staid at Fort Aubray, for when he comes along in a few weeks, he won't know anything about this trouble till I tell him the whole story myself, and then it will be too late for him to worry."

"Yes, I'm glad it's so, for it saams if I had a spalpeen of a son off wid Lone Wolf, among the mountains, I'd feel as bad as if he'd gone in swimming where the water was over his head. And then it will be so nice to sit down and tell the ould gintleman about it, and have him lambaste ye 'cause you wasn't more respictful to Lone Wolf. All them things are cheerful, and make the occasion very plisant. Begorrah, I should like to know where that old redskin is, for Soot Simpson tells me that he is the greatest redskin down in this part of the world. He's the spalpeen that robbed a government train and made himself a big blanket out of the new greenbaeks that he stole. Soot says that there isn't room on his lodge-pole for half the scalps that he has taken. Bad luck to the spalpeen, he will peel the topknot from the head of a lovely woman, or swaat child, such as I used to be, as quick as he would from the crown of a man of my size. He's an old riprobate, is the same, and Soot says he can niver die resigned and at pace with all mankind till he shoots him."

"I'll be very glad to keep out of his way, if he'll keep out of mine. I wonder why he didn't kill me when he had the chance, instead of keeping me so long."

"I s'pose he meant to carry ye up where his little spalpeens live, and turn ye over to them for their amusement."

"How could I amuse them?"

"There be a good many ways. They might have stuck little wooden pegs in your hide, then set fire to 'em, and then walked ye round for fireworks; or they might fill your ears with powder, and tech it off, and then watched the iligant exprission of your countenance. Or they might lave set ye to running up and down between two rows of 'em, about eight or ten miles long, while aich stood with a big shillalah in his hand, and banged ye over the head with it as ye passed. There be a good many ways, according to what Soot told me, but that's enough to show ye that Lone Wolf and his folks wouldn't have been at a loss to find delightful ways of giving the little childher the innocent sport they must have."

"I shouldn't think they would, if that's the kind of fun they like," replied the horrified boy. "I've thanked the Lord hundreds of times that He helped me get out of Lone Wolf's clutches, and my dread is that he may catch us before we can get out of the mountain. I don't believe we could find as good a chance as I did the other night."

"Ye're right; that thing couldn't happen ag'in. Lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place; but we've got good horses, and if he don't pin us up in the pass, I think our chance is as good as could be asked."

"That's what troubles me," said Fred, who was galloping at his side, and who kept continually glancing from the tops of the rocks upon the right to the tops upon the left. "You know there are Indians all over, and I wonder that some of them haven't seen us already. S'pose they do, and they're behind us, they can signal to somebody ahead, and the first thing we know, they've got us shut in on both sides."

"That thing may happen," replied Mickey, who did not appear as apprehensive as his young friend; "but I have the best of hope that the same won't. I don't think Lone Wolf knows we're anywhere around here, and before he can find out, I also hope we shall be beyond his raich."



CHAPTER XIV.

BETWEEN TWO FIRES.

Mickey had scarcely given utterance to this hopeful remark when he drew up his mustang with a spasmodic jerk and exclaimed, in a startled in a startled voice:

"Do you see that?"

As he spoke, he pointed some distance ahead, where a faint, thin column of smoke was seen rising from the top of the rocks on the opposite side of the canon or pass.

It will be remembered that the pass of which our two friends availed themselves is the only one leading through the section of the mountains which lies to the eastward of the Rio Pecos. That part over which Fred and Mickey were riding showed numerous winding trails, made by the hoofs of the horses, as they passed back and forth, bearing Apaches, Comanches, Kiowas, and, very rarely, white men. At no very distant intervals were observed human skeletons and bones, while they were scarcely ever out of sight of the remains of horses or wild animals; all of which told their tale of the scenes of violence that had taken place in that highway of the mountains.

Sometimes war-parties of the tribes mentioned encountered each other in the gorge, and passed each other in sullen silence, or, perchance, they dashed together like so many wild beasts, fighting with the fury of a thousand Kilkenny cats. It was as the whim happened to rule the leaders.

The rocks rose perpendicularly on both sides to the height of fifty and a hundred feet, the upper contour being irregular, and varying in every manner imaginable. Along the upper edge of the pass grew vegetation, while here and there, along the side, some tree managed to obtain a precarious foothold, and sprouted forth toward the sun. The floor of the canon was of a varied nature—rocks, boulders, grass, streams of water, gravel, sand, and barren soil, alternating with each other and preventing anything like an accurate description of any particular section. A survey of this curious specimen of nature's highway suggested the idea that the solid mountain had been rent for many leagues by an earthquake, which, having opened this great seam or rent, had left it gradually to adjust itself to the changed order of things, and to be availed of by those who were seeking a safe and speedy transit through the almost impassable mountains.

Mickey and Fred checked their mustangs and carefully scrutinized the line of smoke. It was several hundred yards in advance, on their left, while they were following a trail that led close to the right of the canon. They could distinguish nothing at all that could give any additional information.

The fire which gave rise to the vapor had been kindled just far enough back to cause the edge of the gorge to protrude itself in such a way as to shut it off from the eyes of those below. Indeed, it was not to be supposed that those who had the matter in charge would commit any oversight which would reveal themselves or their purpose to those from whom they desired to keep them.

"That is the same as the camp-fire which troubled the three Apaches so much, and which was the means of my giving them the slip."

"It must have been started by some other war-party, so that their ca'c'lations were upsit, and you had a chance to get away during the muss. It was a sort of free fight, you see, in which, instead of staying and getting your head cracked, you stepped down and lift."

Unable to make anything of this particular signal-fire, the two friends carefully searched for more. Had they been able to discover one in the rear, they would have been assured that signaling was going on, and they would not have dared to venture forward. Here and there along the sides of the canon were openings or crevices, generally filled with some sort of a vegetable growth, and into most of which quite a number of men could have taken refuge, but which, of course, were inaccessible to their horses.

"I can't find anything that resimbles the same," said Mickey, alluding to the camp-fire, "though there may be some one that is seen by the gintlemen who are cooking their shins by yon one."

"Will it do to go on?"

"It won't do to do anything else. Like enough the spalpeen yonder has obsarved us coming, and he knows that there's a party behind us, and, being unable to do anything himsilf, he starts up the fire so as to scare us, and turn us back into the hands of the spalpeens coming in our rear. Mind, I say that such may be the case, but I ain't sure that it is."

"I shouldn't wonder a bit, now, if that isn't it exactly," said Fred, who was quite taken with the ingenious theory of his friend. "It seems to me that the best thing that we can do is to ride on as fast as we can."

"We've got to run the risk of it being all wrong, and fetching up in the bosom of the spalpeens; but it's moighty sure we don't make anything by standing here."

The Irishman turned his horse as near the middle of the canon as possible. Fred kept close to his side, his mustang behaving so splendidly that he gave him his unreserved confidence. The average width of the pass was about a hundred yards, so it will be understood that if a detachment of men were caught within it they would be compelled to fight at a fearful disadvantage.

The plan of Mickey and Fred, as they discussed it while riding along, was to keep up the moderate gallop until close upon the fire. They would then put their animals to the highest speed and pass the dangerous point as speedily as possible. They felt no little misgiving as they drew near the dangerous place, and they continually glanced upward at the rocks overhead, expecting that a party of Indians would suddenly make their appearance and open fire.

The first plan was, as they drew near, to run in as close as possible beneath the rocks on the left, in the belief that, as they overhung so much, the Indians above could not reach them with a shot. But before the time came to make the attempt, it was seen that it would not do. Accordingly, Mickey, who had maintained a line as close as possible to the centre of the canon, suddenly sheered his mustang to the right, until he nearly grazed the wall there. Then he put him on a dead run, Fred Munson doing the same, with very little space between the two steeds. A few plunges brought them directly opposite the signal-fire, and every nerve was strained.

Both beasts were capable of magnificent speed and the still air became like a hurricane as the horsemen cut their way through it. Fred glanced upward at the crest of the rocks on the left and fancied that he saw figures standing there, preparing to fire. He hammered his heels against the ribs of his mustang and leaned forward upon his neck, in the hope of making the aim as difficult as possible.

Still no reports of guns were heard; and, after continuing the terrific gait for a quarter of a mile, they gradually decreased it until it became a moderate walk, and the riders again found themselves side by side. Both had looked behind them a dozen times since passing the dangerous point, but had not obtained a glimpse of an Indian.

"I thought I saw a number just as we were opposite," said Fred; "but, if so, what has become of them?"

"Ye didn't obsarve any at all, for I kipt raising me eye that way, and they weren't there. The whole thing is a moighty puzzle, as our tacher used to remark when the sum in addition became so big that he had to set down one number and carry anither. The spalpeens must have manufactured that fire for our benefit, and where's the good that it has done them?"

"Can't it be that it was for something else? Can't it be that they took us for Indians, or perhaps they haven't seen us at all, and don't know that we've passed?"

"It does seem as if something of the kind might be, and yet that don't sthrike me as the Injin style of doing business."

They continued their moderate pace for quite a distance further, continually looking back toward the camp-fire, the smoke from which continued to ascend with the same distinct regularity as before, but nothing resembling a warrior was detected. Finally a curve in the gorge shut out the troublesome signal, and they were left to continue their way and conjecture as much as they chose as to the explanation of what had taken place.

A little later, and when the afternoon was about half gone, they reached a portion of the pass which was remarkably straight, so that the eye took in a half mile of it, from the beginning to the point where another turn intervened. The two friends were galloping over this exact section and speculating as to how soon they would strike the open prairie, when all their calculations were knocked topsy-turvy. A party of horsemen charged around the bend in front, all riding at a sweeping gallop directly toward the alarmed Mickey and Fred, who instantly halted and surveyed them. A second glance showed them to be Indians, undoubtedly Apaches, and very probably Lone Wolf himself and some of his warriors.

"We must turn back," said the Irishman, wheeling his horse about and striking him into a rapid gait. "We've got to have a dead run for it, and I think we can win. Holy saints presarve us!"

This ejaculation was caused by seeing, at that moment, another party of horsemen appear directly in their front, as they turned on the back trail. Thus they were shut in on both sides, and fairly caught between two fires.



CHAPTER XV.

ON THE DEFENSIVE.

AT the moment of reining up their mustangs, the fugitives were about equidistant between the two fires, and it was just as dangerous to advance as to retreat. For one second the Irishman meditated a desperate charge, in the hope of breaking through the company that first appeared in his path, and, had he been alone, or accompanied by a man, he would have done so. But, slight as was his own prospect of escape, he knew there was absolutely none for the boy in such a desperate effort, and he determined that it should not be made.

"Can't we make a dash straight through them?" asked Fred, reading the thought of Mickey, as he glanced from one to the other, and noted the fearfully rapid approach of the redskins.

"It can't be done," replied the Irishman. "There is only one thing left for us."

"What is that?"

"Do as I do. Yonder is an opening that may serve us for awhile."

As he spoke, he slipped off his steed, leaving him to work his own will. Fred did not hesitate a moment, for there was not a moment to spare.

As he sprang to the ground, he pulled the beautiful Apache blanket from the back of the mustang that had served him so well. Dragging that with him, the two hurried to the right, making for a wooded crevice between the rocks, which seemingly offered a chance for them to climb to the surface above, if, in the order of things, they should gain the opportunity to do so. Mickey O'Rooney, as a matter of course, took the lead and in a twinkling he was among the gnarled and twisted saplings, the interlacing vines, and the rolling stones and rattling gravel. As soon as he had secured a foothold, he reached out his hand to help his young friend.

"Never mind me. I can keep along behind you. Go as fast as you can."

"Let me have the blanket," said Mickey, drawing it from his grasp. "Now come ahead, for we have got to go it like monkeys."

He turned and bent to his task with the recklessness of despair, for, even in that dreadful crisis, he thought more of the little fellow than he did of himself. If he could have been assured of his safety, he would have been ready to wheel about and meet his score or more of foes, and fight them single-handed, as Leonidas and his band did at Thermopylae. But the fate of the two was linked together, and, sink or swim, it must be fulfilled in company.

The narrow, wooded ravine, in which they had taken enforced refuge, was only three or four feet in width, the bottom sloping irregularly upward, at an angle of forty five degrees. So long as this continued, so long could they maintain their laboring ascent to the top. Mickey had strong hopes that, with the advantage of the start, they might reach that point far enough in advance of their pursuers to secure some other concealment that would serve them till nightfall, when they could steal out and try their chances again.

The saplings growing at every inclination afforded them much assistance, as they were able to seize hold with one or both hands, and thus help themselves along. But the vines in many places were of a peculiar running nature and they frequently caught their feet and stumbled; but they were instantly up and at it again. All at once Mickey, who was scarcely an arm's length in advance, halted so abruptly that Fred ran plump against him.

"Why don't you go on?" asked the panting lad.

"I can't. Here's the end."

So it was, indeed. While pressing forward with undiminished effort, the Irishman found himself suddenly confronted with a solid, perpendicular wall of rock. The narrow chasm, or fissure, terminated.

It was like a fugitive, his heart beating high with hope, checked in his flight by the obtrusion of the Great Chinese Wall across his path. Mickey looked upward. As he stood, he could, with outstretched arms, touch the wall on his right and left, and kick the one in front—the only open route being in the rear, which was commanded by the Apache party. As he did so, he saw, through the interstices of the interweaving, straggling branches, the clear, blue sky, with the edge of the fissure fully forty feet above his head. His first hope was that some of the saplings around him were lofty enough to permit him to use them as a ladder; but the tallest did not approach within a half dozen yards of the top. They were shut in on every hand.

"We can't run any further," said the Irishman, after a hasty glance at the situation. "We are cotched as fairly as ever was a mouse in a trap, and it now remains for us to peg away, and go under doing the best we can. Have ye your pistol?"

"Yes; I picked it up again, after throwing it in the face of the grizzly, but it isn't loaded."

"Then it ain't of much account, as me mither used to say in her affectionate references to me father; but if one of the spalpeens happen to come onto ye too suddent like, ye might scare him by shoving that into his eyes. I've got the powder for the same, but the bullets won't fit it, so I'll have to do the shooting."

They were at bay and the Irishman was right in his declaration that they could do nothing but fight it out as best they might. The question of further flight was settled by the trap in which they were caught.

They paused, expecting to hear the tramp of the Indians behind them, but, as it continued quiet, Mickey ventured upon a more critical inspection of their fortress, as it may be termed. He found little which has not already been mentioned, except the fact that the wall on their left sloped inward, as it ascended, to such a degree that the width at the top was several feet less than at the bottom. This was an important advantage, for, in case they were attacked from above, it was in their power to place themselves beyond the immediate reach of a whole war party by any means at their command.

"Do ye hear anything?" asked Mickey, bending his head to listen.

They were silent a few minutes, during which the occasional tramp of a horse's hoof was noted. Beyond a doubt, the entire war-party of Apaches were at the mouth of the fissure and probably a number had already entered it.

"They haven't tried to rush in pell-mell, head-over-heels," added Mickey, after they had stood thus a short time; but they are sneaking along, just as they always do when they're on the thrack of a gintleman."

"How soon do you think they will be here?" asked Fred, who had recovered his breath, and who began to feel something like a renewal of hope, faint though it might be, at the continued silence of their foes.

"Can't say, me laddy; but they may come any minute, and we must keep eyes and ears open, and be ready to do the last act in style. Don't ye mind that we're very much in the same fix that we was when cotched in the cave, barring that we're worse off here than we were there? If some one should let a lasso down from the top, we might climb up just as we did there; but that's one of the things that ain't likely to happen."

"Suppose we creep back a ways to see what the Indians are doing," ventured Fred, who was puzzled at the silence of their enemies, which had now continued for some time.

"No need of doing that just yet. They'll let us know what they're at and what they mane—whisht!"

At that juncture the Irishman detected a movement among the wood and undergrowth of the ravine, and his rifle was at his shoulder like a flash. Fred understood, or, rather, suspected, the cause of the trouble, though he saw nothing. Only a few seconds elapsed when the trigger was pulled. The sharp crack of the weapon had scarcely broke the stillness when the shriek of a warrior was heard only a few feet away, followed by a threshing of the vines and vegetation, as the comrades of the slain brave caught and hurriedly dragged him back toward the greater ravine beyond.

"That'll taich 'em to be more respictful in the traitment of gintlemen," remarked Mickey, who had recovered something of his natural recklessness, and was reloading his gun with as much sangfroid as though he had just dropped an antelope, and wished to be ready for another that was expected along the same path.

Fred had detected the rustling movement among the shrubbery made by the redskin in stealing upon them, but he saw nothing of the savage himself, and was not a little startled when his friend fired so quickly, and the result was so manifest.

If the victim of this rather hastily fired shot was unable to appreciate the lesson from its having a too personal application to himself, his companions appreciated it fully. It taught them that the way of pursuit was not open and undisputed by any means, and the few who were hurrying forward rather rashly were not only checked, but forced backward. Matters, for the moment, were brought to a stand still.

"They'll be back again," added Mickey, after reloading his piece, "and, as they mean to have our topknots, as the hunters say, we'll wipe out as many as we kin before they git them. And now, me laddy, will ye allow me to make a suggestion?"

"What is it?"

"That ye kaap a little more out of raich. If one of the spalpeens craap up, and shoots ye dead, ye'll be sorry ye didn't take me advice, when ye come to think the matter over coolly. Here's a sort of boulder which seems to have cared in from above. Do ye squaze in behind that."

"And what will you do?" asked Fred, acting upon his advice.

"Being as there isn't room to squaze in wid ye, I'll take my stand a little out here, where I can secure the protection of a similar piece of masonry, and where the spalpeens can't git by me without giving the countersign and showing a pass."

The lad did not specially like this arrangement, as it really retired him, but their quarters were so cramped that they had to dispose of themselves as best they could. He was obliged to feel that practically he was of no account, as his only pistol had become useless hours before. Accordingly, he forced himself in behind the boulder pointed out, and found that his position was safe against any treacherous shot from the front.

He was uneasy, however, about the open space above him, for it struck him that it would be so easy for any of their foes to roll the rocks down upon their heads. When he came to examine the situation more critically, he was not a little relieved to find that he was protected by the sloping wall, already mentioned. A heavy stone heaved over the opening above might really weigh a ton, and come crashing downward with terrific force, but no skill could, at the start, cause its course to be such as to injure the lad. He therefore concluded that his friend Mickey was not unwise in placing him in such a refuge.



CHAPTER XVI.

FRIEND OR ENEMY?

It can scarcely be said that either of the fugitives had any definite hope of escape, for neither was able to see how the thing was possible. Mickey knew that occasionally, in the affairs of the world, seemingly providential interferences had occurred, but he looked for nothing of the kind. He considered that there would be a siege, lasting perhaps several days, then a desperate hand-to-hand struggle, and then.

The summary manner in which the Irishman disposed of the first Apache who showed himself brought matters to a standstill. In this condition they probably would have remained but for the Irishman himself, who saw nothing to be gained by inaction. Turning his head, he whispered to Fred:

"Do ye kape quiet, me laddy, till my return. I am going to take a look around."

The boy offered no objection, for he knew it would not be heeded, and Mickey moved away. It required the greatest care to pick his way down the fissure, as the stones and gravel were liable to turn under his feet and betray his approach, and it was much easier to go forward than backward.

The fissure which had afforded this temporary refuge was about fifty feet in length, and the vegetation was so thick that at almost any portion the view was no greater than three or four yards. Mickey was in constant expectation of encountering some of the Apaches at every step he took, and, in accordance with his principle of hitting a head wherever he saw it, he held his rifle so as to fire on the very instant the coppery face presented itself to view. But he saw none, and as he advanced he began to believe that the place was entirely free of the Apaches, who, if prudent, would quietly wait on the outside until their prey dropped into their hands.

It was not to be supposed that they would leave any opening on the outside by which the most forlorn chance could be obtained, and Mickey had no thought of any such thing. If he had, it would have been dissipated by the evidence of his own ears. He could hear distinctly their peculiar grunting voices, the tramp of their mustangs, and the evidence which a score of Indian warriors might be expected to give of their presence, when they had no reason for concealment.

"It may be that the spalpeens mean to make a rush upon me," he muttered, as he halted near the end of the fissure, "in which case I shall have a delightful employment in cracking their pates as they come up and take their turn."

He remained where he was a few minutes longer, and, seeing no prospect of learning anything additional, he resumed his advance until he reached a point where it was only necessary to draw the branches slightly apart to gain a view of the main ravine. And this he proceeded to do in the gentlest and most cautious manner possible.

The view was satisfactory, as it showed him that the Apaches were gathered at the entrance to the fissure and were taking matters very coolly and philosophically. Several were on horses, and a number on foot. Among the mustangs moving about, the Irishman recognized his own, astride of which was a dirty-looking Apache, with a wide mouth and broken nose.

"Ye ould spalpeen," muttered the indignant Irishman, "if it wasn't for fear of spoiling your wonderful booty, I'd turn you somersets off that hoss of mine, which I shall have to whitewash after getting him back, on account of your contact wid the same."

Mickey was strongly tempted to send a bullet after the tantalizing horse-thief, but he thought he could wait awhile. He was extremely cautious in making his stealthy view, only moving enough leaves to permit the service of his eyes and he had not enjoyed this prospect long before he believed that he had been detected.

Of the twenty-odd members comprising the Apache party, about a dozen were constantly in view, the others being too far to the right or left to be seen. The group was an irregular and straggling one, the most interesting portion being five or six, who stood close together, exactly at the base of the fissure, talking with each other. It was impossible that there should be more than one subject of discussion; and the dispute, as Mickey suspected, was as to the precise method of disposing of the job which had been placed in their hands.

Some, evidently, favored a daring charge directly up the narrow ravine, with its short, fierce encounter and sure victory. Others had a different plan, and their gestures led the eavesdropper to suspect that they advocated reaching them from the roof, while it was apparent that there were those who insisted upon waiting until the fruit should become ripe enough to fall into their laps without shaking. There could be little doubt that the Apaches preferred to take both prisoners, instead of shooting or tomahawking them in a fight. They were under the inspiration of Lone Wolf, who believed that a live man was much more valuable than a dead one.

While Mickey was watching this group with an interest which may be imagined, he noticed that a short, thick, greasy, filthy warrior was looking directly toward him, with a steadiness which caused the Irishman to suspect that his presence was known. The Indian, like all of them, was as homely as he could be. He, too, had gone through an attack of smallpox, which had left his broad face so deeply pitted that it could be noticed through the vari-colored paint which was daubed thereon. There was scarcely any forehead, the black, piercing eyes were far apart, and when Mickey saw them turned toward him, he felt anything but comfortable under their fire.

"I wonder whether he would keep mum if I should tip him the wink?" thought Mickey, who suffered the leaves in front of his face to close until there was just the smallest space through which he could watch his man.

The latter acted very much as if he suspected the proximity of the Irishman, even if he was not assured of it. He continued looking directly at the point where the eyes of the white man peered out upon him, and by-and-by he raised his arm and pointed in the same direction, saying something at the same time to a couple of the warriors near him.

"Be the powers, if that doesn't mane me, as me friend Larry O'Toole said when the judge axed for the biggest rascal in coort. I'll have to retire."

At this juncture a strange occurrence took place. Mickey O'Rooney was looking straight at the man, when he saw him fling up his arms, yell and pitch forward to the ground, while the group instantly scattered, as if a bombshell had dropped at their feet.

Just a second previous to this strange death, Mickey heard the report of a rifle, showing that the warrior had been shot by some one at quite a distance from the spot, which shot, at the game time, caused a temporary panic among the others.