"Well, well, now, if that doesn't bate everything!" exclaimed the amazed Irishman. "Just as I was thinking of raising my gun to give that spalpeen his walking-papers, up steps some gintleman and saves me the trouble; but who was the gintleman? is the question."

The inexplicable occurrence naturally recalled Fred Munson's adventure with the grizzly bear. When he needed assistance most sorely, the shot was fired that saved his life. Could it be that the same party had interfered in the present instance? There was plenty of ground for speculation, and the Irishman was disposed to believe that the diversion came from some small party of Kiowas or Comanches, who had a special enmity against this company of Apaches, and who, being too weak to attack them, took this means of revenging themselves.

It was unsafe, however, to count upon the well-aimed shot as meant in the interest of the whites, although the one that brought down the grizzly bear could not have been meant for anything else than a direct help to the imperiled lad. The Southwest has been noted for what are termed "triangular fights." A party of Americans have been driven at bay by an overwhelming number of Mexicans or greasers, who have suddenly found themselves attacked by a party of howling Comanches. The latter have scattered the Mexicans like chaff, the Americans acting the part of spectators until the rout was complete, when the Comanches turned about and sailed into the Americans. The Kiowas, Comanches, Apaches, Mexicans and Americans afforded just the elements for a complication of guerilla warfare, in which matters frequently became mixed to a wonderful degree.

The hand that had fired this shot against a mortal foe of Mickey O'Rooney might be turned against him the next hour. Who could tell?

"If that gintleman begins the serenade from the other side, it's me bounden duty to kaap it up from this," concluded the Irishman, as he cocked his rifle and awaited his chance.

It was not long in coming. Only a few minutes had passed after the shot, when a couple of Apaches walked rapidly to view, and, approaching the remains of their comrade, stooped down to carry him away.

Mickey allowed them to get fairly started, when he blazed away at the foremost, and had the satisfaction of seeing the rear Apache not only deprived of his assistance, but his duty suddenly doubled. The warrior, however, stuck pluckily to the work, and dragged both out of view without any assistance from those who were ready to rush to his help.

These two, or rather three, rifle shots produced the strongest kind of effect upon the Apaches. They could not well fail to do so, for they were not only fired with unerring aim, but they came from such diverse points as to show the redskins that instead of having their enemies cooped up in this narrow ravine, they had, in one sense, placed themselves between two fires.

Hurriedly reloading his rifle, Mickey waited several minutes, determined to fire the instant he got the chance, with the purpose of enhancing the demoralization of the wretches. But they had received enough to teach them caution, and as the minutes passed, they failed to expose themselves. They had taken to shelter somewhere, and were not yet ready to uncover.

"When Mickey had waited a considerable time, he concluded to rejoin Fred Munson, who, no doubt, was anxious over the result of his reconnoissance. When he returned he found him seated upon the boulder, instead of behind it. The Irishman hastily explained what had taken place, and added:

"I don't know what they will do next, but we've give the spalpeens a dose that will kaap them in the background for a while."

"No, it won't, either," was the significant response.

"What do you maan, me laddy?"

"I mean that the Apaches, or some of them, anyway, have changed their base. I've heard something overhead that makes me sure they're up there, getting up some kind of deviltry."



CHAPTER XVII.

A FORTUNATE DIVERSION.

Mickey O'Rooney had not thought of the "opening" over their heads since the firing of his rifle-shot, and he now started and looked upward, as if fearful that he had committed a fatal oversight. But he saw or heard nothing to excite alarm.

"Where are they?" he asked, in a whisper.

"They're up there. I've seen them peep down more than once."

"What were they paaping for?"

"I suppose to find out where we were."

"Be the powers, but I showed them where I was when I fired me gun!"

"That maybe; but you didn't stay there, and perhaps they were looking for me."

"Did they find ye?"

"I don't think they did. You know I was in behind the boulder, with my head thrown back, so that it was easy for me to look up, and there wasn't enough branches and leaves over my head to shut out my view; so I lay there looking up, watching and listening, when I saw an Indian peep over the top there, as though he was looking for us."

"Did ye see more than one?"

"I am sure there were two, and I think three."

"They didn't ax ye any question?"

"I didn't hear any."

"What d'ye s'pose they mean to try?"

"I thought they meant to find out where we are hiding, and then roll stones down on us. They can do that, you know, without our getting a chance to stop them."

"If we squaze in under that same place," said Mickey, indicating the inward slope of the rock, they can't hit us; but I don't believe that such is their intention."

"What do you suppose it to be?"

"That's hard to say; but these varmints ain't ready to shoot us jist yet. Leastaways, they don't want to do so, until they're sure there ain't anything else lift for 'em to'do."

"They wish to make us prisoners?"

"That's it, exactly."

"Well, if they are willing to wait, they'll be sure to have us, for there isn't any water here for us to drink, and we can't get along without that."

The Irishman suddenly slapped his chest and side, as though he missed something from the pocket.

"And be the powers!" he exclaimed, "I've lost that mate, and there must have been enough to last us a wake or two."

"How could you have lost that?" asked Fred, who was much disappointed.

"It must have slid out when we were riding so hard, or else when we lift our horses."

"Are you sure it wasn't lost somewhere among these trees, where we can get it again?"

But he was confident that such was not the case, and he was not disposed to mourn the loss a great deal. They could do longer without food than they could without drink, and he was of the opinion that this problem would be solved before they were likely to perish from the want of either.

"Did ye get a fair look at any of the spalpeens that was so ill-mannered as to paap down on ye?"

"Yes; and there was one—'Sh! there he is now!"

The two peered upward through the leaves, and saw the head and shoulders of an Apache, who was looking down into the ravine. He was not directly above them, but a dozen feet off to the left. He seemed to be trying to locate the party that had fired two such fatal shots, and therefore could not have known where he was.

The face of the Indian could be seen very distinctly, and it was one with more individual character than any Mickey had as yet noticed. It was not handsome nor very homely, but that of a man in the prime of life, with a prominent nose—a regular contour of countenance for an Indian. The face was painted, as was the long black hair which dangled about his shoulders. His eye was a powerful black one, which flitted restlessly, as he keenly searched the ravine below.

Not seeing that which he wished, he arose to his feet, and walked slowly along and away from where the fugitives were crouching. That is, his face was turned toward the main ravine or pass, while he stepped upon the very edge of the fissure, moving with a certain deliberation and dignity, as he searched the space below for the man and boy whom he was so anxious to secure.

"I wonder if he ain't the leader?" said Mickey, in a whisper. "I never saw better shtyle than that."

"I should think he was the leader. Don't you know him?"

"How should I know him? I never traveled much in Injun society. Are ye and him acquainted?"

"He's Lone Wolf—their great war-chief."

"Ye don't say so?" exclaimed the astonished Irishman, staring at him. "He's just the spalpeen I loaded me gun for, and here goes!"

Softly raising the hammer of his rifle, he lifted the weapon to his shoulder; but before he could make his aim certain, the red scamp stepped aside and vanished from view.

"Now, that's enough to break a man's heart!" wailed the chagrined Mickey. "Why wasn't the spalpeen thoughtful and kind enough to wait until I could have made sartin of him? But sorra and disappointment await us all, as Barney Mulligan said when his friend wouldn't fight him. Maybe he'll show himsilf agin."

Whether or not Lone Wolf learned of the precise location of the parties for whom he was searching can only be conjectured; but during the ten minutes that Mickey held his weapon ready to shoot him at sight, he took good care to keep altogether invisible.

The Irishman was still looking for his reappearance, when another singular occurrence took place. There was a whoop, or rather howl, followed by a fall of a warrior, who was so near the edge of the narrow ravine that when he came down, a portion of his body was seen by those below. The dull and rather distant report of a gun told the curious story.

The same rifle that had picked off one of the Apaches at the mouth of the fissure had done the same thing in the case of one at the top. The aim in both instances was unerring.

"Freddy, me lad," said Mickey, a moment later, "whin we rushed in here wid the spalpeens snapping at our heels, I hadn't any more hope that we'd ever get clear of 'em than the man who was transported to Botany Bay had of cutting out Prince Albert in Queen Victoria's graces."

"Have you any more hope now?"

"I have; we've got a friend on the outside, and he's doing us good sarvice, as he has already proved. If Lone Wolf wasn't among that crowd, I don't belave they would stay after what has took place; there's nothing to scare an Injun like them things which he don't understand."

"I should think that that rifle-shot is proof enough that somebody is firing into them."

"Be the powers, but ye know little of Injin devilments, as I've larned 'em from Soot Simpson. How do ye know but that's a thrick to make these Apaches belave that there's but a single Kiowa over there popping at them, when there may be half a hundred waiting for the chance to clean them out?"

"Maybe that is Sut himself; you know you have been expecting him."

"It can't be him," replied Mickey, with a shake of his head. "He would have showed himself long ago, when he could be sure of helping us. There must be some redskins over there that have put up a job on Lone Wolf and his scamps."

"Whoever it is, whether one or a dozen, they are helping us mightily."

"So it looks, though they don't mean it for that, and after driving these spalpeens away, they may come over to clean us out themselves."

Nothing was heard of the redskins above for a considerable time after the shot mentioned. Then the body was suddenly whisked out of sight. It is a principle with Indians to bring away their dead from any fight in which they may have fallen. At the imminent risk of losing his own life a warrior had stolen up and drawn away the remains of his former comrade.

The mysterious shots seemed to come from the other side of the ravine, and they naturally had a very demoralizing effect upon the party. Lone Wolf was not only brave, but sagacious and prudent. He was not the chief to allow his warriors to stand idly and permit themselves to be picked off one by one by an unseen enemy. But for the latter, he would have descended into the fissure, and, with several of his most reliable braves, captured and secured Mickey and his companion at all hazards. But what assurance could he have that after he and his men had entered the little ravine, a whole party of Kiowas would not swarm in, overwhelm them, and make off with their horses? So the leader concluded for the time being to remain outside, where his line of retreat would be open, while he could arrange his plans for disposing of the whites at his leisure.

Lone Wolf dispatched two of his most skillful scouts, one to the right, the other to the left, with orders to get to the rear of the enemy, no matter how long a detour was necessary. In case they were unable to extinguish them, they were to signal or return for assistance. After sending off his trusty messengers, Lone Wolf concluded to hold back until their return, keeping himself and his braves pretty well concealed, but guarding against the capture of their horses in the ravine below, or the escape of the two fugitives, who might attempt to take advantage of the diversion.

At the end of an hour, nothing had been seen or heard of the Apache scouts sent out, and the chief dispatched another to learn what was going on, and what was the cause of the trouble. During this hour not a rifle-shot was detected by the waiting, listening ears. Another half hour passed away, and the third man sent out by Lone Wolf came back alone, and with astounding tidings.

He had found both of the warriors lying within a few yards of each other, stone dead. He sought for some explanation of the strange occurrence, but found none, and returned with the news to his leader.

The latter was about as furious as a wild Indian could be, without exploding. Lone Wolf had his own theory of the thing, and he inquired particularly as to the manner in which the fatal wounds seemed to have been inflicted. When they were described, all doubt was removed from the mind of the chieftain.

He knew where the fatal shots came from, and he determined that there was no better time to "square accounts." Calling the larger portion of his company about him, he started backward and away from the ravine, his purpose being to reach the rear of his enemy by a long detour.



CHAPTER XVIII.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

All this was grist for Mickey and Fred. The long silence and inaction—so far as these two were concerned—of the Apaches convinced the fugitives that some important interruption was going on, and that it could not fail to operate in the most direct way in their favor. It was well into the afternoon when the collision occurred between them and the Apaches, and enough time had already passed to bring the night quite close at hand. An hour or so more, and darkness would be upon them.

"I don't belave the spalpeens have found put just the precise spot where we've stowed away," said Mickey, in his cautious undertone, to his companion, "for I've no evidence that such is the case."

"They may take it into their heads to come into the fissure again, and then where are we?"

"Right here, every time. We couldn't get a better spot, unless it might be at the mouth."

"Don't you think we had better go there?" asked the lad, who could not feel the assurance of his friend.

"I see nothing to be gained by the same, as Tim O'Loony said when some one told him that honesty was the best policy. If we start to return there, they'll find out where we are, and begin to roll stones on us. I don't want to go along, dodging rocks as big as a house, wid an occasional rifle-shot thrown in, by way of variety."

"Don't you fear they will creep in and try to surprise us?"

"Not before dark, and then we can shift our position."

"Do you believe there is any hope at all for us in the way of getting out?"

The Irishman was careful not to arouse too strong hopes in the breast of the lad, and he tried to be guarded in his reply:

"An hour ago I would have sworn if there war a half-dozen of us in here, there was no show of our getting away wid our top-knots, for the raison that there is but one hole through which we could sneak, and there's twenty of 'em sitting round there, and watching for us; but I faal that there is some ground for hope."

"What reason for your saying there is hope? Isn't it just as hard to get out the front without being seen?"

"It might be just now; but there's no telling what them ither spalpeens mane to do arter the sun goes down. S'pose they get Lone Wolf and his men in such a big fight that they'd have their hands full, what's to hinder our sneaking out the back-door during the rumpus, hunting up our mustangs, or somebody else's, and resooming our journey to New Boston, which these spalpeens were so impertinent as to interrupt a short time since?"

Fred Munson felt that this was about as rose-colored a view as could be taken, and indeed a great deal rosier than the situation warranted—at least, in his opinion.

"Mickey, if that isn't counting chickens before they're hatched, I don't know what is! While you're supposing things, suppose these Indians don't do all that, where's going to come our chance of creeping out without their knowing it?"

Mickey scratched his head in his puzzled way, and replied:

"I'm sorry to obsarve that ye persist in axing knotty questions, as I reproved me landlord for doing in the ould country, when he found me digging praities in his patch. There's a good many ways in which we may get a chance to craap out, and I'm bound to say there be a good many more by which we can't; but the good Lord has been so good to us, that I can't help belaving He won't let us drop jist yet, though He may think that the best thing for us both will be to let the varmints come in and scalp us."

There was a good deal of hope in the Irishman, and a certain contagion marked it, which Fred Munson felt, but he could not entertain as much of it as did his older and more experienced friend. Still, he was ready to make any attempt which offered the least chance of flight. He was hungry and thirsty, and there was no way of supplying the wants, and he dreaded the night of suffering to be succeeded by the still more tormenting day.

It was very warm in the ravine, where not a stir of air could reach them. If they suffered themselves to be cooped up there through the night, they would be certain to continue there during the following day, for it was not to be expected by the wildest enthusiast that any way of escape presented itself under the broad sunlight. The following night must find them more weakened in every respect; for the chewing of leaves, while it might afford temporary relief, could not be expected to amount to much in a run of twenty-four hours. Clearly, if anything at all was to be done or attempted, it should not be deferred beyond the evening, which was now so close at hand.

But the objection again came up that whatever Mickey and Fred decided on, hinged upon the action of parties with whom they had nothing to do, and with whom, as a matter of course, it was impossible to communicate. If the Kiowas, as they were suspected to be, should choose to draw off and have nothing further to do with the business, the situation of the fugitives must become as despairing and hopeless as in the first case.

There perhaps was some reason for the declaration of Mickey that the strangers (their allies for the time being) were a great deal more likely to perform their mission before the sun should rise again. Consequently, the next few hours were likely to settle the question one way or the other.

"Do you know whether any of the Apaches are still up there?" asked Fred.

"Yes; there be one or two. I've seen 'em since we've been talking, but they're a good deal more careful of showing their ugly faces. They paap over now and then, and dodge back agin, before I can get a chance to pop away."

"Would you try and shoot them if you had the chance?"

"Not just yet, for it would show 'em where we are, and they would be likely to bother us."

The two carried out this policy of keeping their precise location from the Indians so long as it was possible, which would have been a very short time, but for the terror inspired among the Apaches from the shots across the pass. Mickey had no suspicion that Lone Wolf and his best warriors were absent on a hunt for the annoying cause of these shots. Had he known it, he might have been tempted upon a reconnoissance of his own before sunset, and so it was well, perhaps, that he remained in ignorance.

Within the next hour night descended, and the ravine, excluding the rays of the moon, became so dark that Mickey believed it safe to venture out of their niche and approach the pass, into which they had no idea of entering until the ground had been thoroughly reconnoitered.

"The spalpeens will be listening," whispered Mickey, as they crept out, "and so ye naadn't indulge in any whistling, or hurrahing, or dancing jigs on the way to our destination."

Fred appreciated their common peril too well to allow any betrayal through his remissness. Favored by the darkness, they crept carefully along over the rocks and boulders, and through the vines and vegetation, until they were so close that the man halted.

"Do ye mind and kaap as still as a dead man, for we're so close now that it won't do to go any closer till we know what the spalpeens are doing."

The two occupied this position for some time, during which nothing caught their ears to betray the presence of men or animals. Feeling the great value of time, Mickey was on the point of creeping forth, when he became aware that there was somebody moving near him. The sound was very slight, but the proof was all the more positive on that account; for it is only by such means that the professional scout judges of the proceedings of a foe near him.

His first dread was that the individual was in the rear, having entered the fissure while they were at the opposite end, and then allowed them to pass by him. But when the faint rustling caught his ear again there could be no doubt that it was in front of him.

"One of the spalpeens—and maybe Lone Wolf himself—coming in to larn about our health," was his conclusion, though the situation was too critical to allow him to communicate with the lad behind him.

Reaching his hand back, he touched his arm, as a warning for the most perfect silence.

The boulder against which he was partly resting was no more quiet and motionless than Fred, who had nerved himself to meet the worst or best fortune. A few minutes more listening satisfied Mickey that the redskin was not a dozen feet in front, and that a particularly large boulder, which was partly revealed by some stray moonlight that made its way through the limbs and branches, was sheltering the scout. Not only that, but he became convinced that the Indian was moving around the left side of the rock, hugging it and keeping so close to the ground that the faintest shadowy resemblance of a human figure could not be detected.

It was at this juncture that the Irishman determined upon a performance perfectly characteristic and amusing in its originality. Carefully drawing his knife from his pocket, he managed to cut a switch, some five or six feet in length, the end of which was slightly split. He next took one of his matches, and struck it against the rock, holding and nursing the flame so far down behind it that not the slightest sign of it could be seen from the outside. Before the match had cleared itself of the brimstone, Mickey secured the other end of the stick in his hand. His next proceeding was to raise this stick, move it around in front, and then suddenly extend it at arms length. This brought the burning match into the dense shadow alongside the rock, and directly over the head of the amazed scout. The Hibernian character of the act was, that while it revealed to him his man, it also, although in a less degree, betrayed the location of Mickey himself, whose delighted astonishment may be imagined, when, instead of discerning a crouching, painted Apache, he recognized the familiar figure of Sut Simpson, the scout.

"What in thunder are ye driving at?" growled the no less astonished Sut, as the flame was almost brought against his face. "Do yer take me for a kag of powder, and do ye want to touch me off?"

"No, but I was thinking that that long, red nose of yourn was so full of whiskey that it would burn, and I wanted to make sartin."



CHAPTER XIX.

HOW IT WAS DONE.

From the very depths of despair, Mickey O'Rooney and Fred Munson were lifted to the most buoyant heights of hope.

"I always took yer for a hoodlum," growled the scout; "but you've just showed yerself a bigger one than I s'posed. Yer orter fetched a lantern with yer, so as to use nights in walking round the country, and looking for folks."

"Begorrah, if that isn't the idaa!" responded the Irishman, with mock enthusiasm; "only I was considering wouldn't it be as well to call out the name of me friends. Ye know what a swate voice I have. When I used to thry and sing in choorch, the ould gintleman always lambasted me for filing the saw on Sunday. But why don't ye craap forward and extend me yer paw, as the bear said to the man?"

Sut, however, did not move, but retained his crouching position beside the large boulder, speaking in the lowest and most guarded voice:

"It won't do; we haven't any time to fool away yerabouts. Is that younker wid yer?"

"Right at me heels, as me uncle concluded when the bulldog nabbed him."

"Come ahead, then. Shoot me! but this ain't a healthy place to loaf in just now. The 'Paches are too plenty and too close. We must light out."

"Sha'n't I shtrike anither match to light us out by?"

"Hold your tongue, will you? Creep right along behind me, without making any noise at all, and don't rise to your feet till yer see me do it, and don't open your meat-traps to speak till I axes yer a question, if it isn't till a month from now. Do yer understand me?"

Mickey replied that he had a general idea of his meaning, and he might as well go ahead with the circus. Fred had caught the whispered conversation, and, of course, knew what it meant. As Mickey turned round to see where he was, he found him at his elbow.

"Sh! Come ahead, now. We're going to creep straight across the pass till we reach t'other side, when we'll go down that some ways, and I'll tell yer the rest."

A second or two afterward the long, wiry frame of the scout emerged from the dense shadow at the side of the boulder, and crept forward in the direction of the middle of the main ravine or pass. Close behind him followed Mickey and Fred, the trio forming a curious procession as they carefully picked their way across the moonlit gorge, the grass for most of the distance being so dense that they were pretty well screened from view.

The directions of the scout were carefully obeyed to the letter, for, indeed, there could have been no excuse for disregarding them. He understood perfectly the nature of the task he had undertaken, and the risk he ran was entirely for the benefit of his friends.

One of the first and most important requisites of a scout is patience, without which he is sure to commit all manner of errors. In the present case, it seemed to Fred that much valuable time could be saved if they would simply rise to their feet and make a dash straight across the ravine. Even Mickey was of the same opinion, at least to the extent of varying the pace so as to go slowly part of the time and rapidly the rest, as the ground became unfavorable or favorable. But it was very clear that Sut Simpson held very different views.

A piece of machinery could not have advanced with a more regular movement than did he—a movement that was excessively trying to an impatient person who could not understand his reason for it. Mickey could see that he turned his head from side to side, and was using his eyes and ears to the extent of their ability. At the end of some fifteen or twenty minutes the base of the perpendicular wall on the opposite side was reached, and, greatly to the relief of his companions, he arose to his feet, they following suit.

"Begorrah, but that's a swate relief, as me Aunt Bridget obsarved, when her ould man."

A turn of the head, and an impatient gesture from the scout, silenced Mickey before he had time to complete the remark. He subsided instantly, and began a debate with himself as to whether he ought not to apologize for his forgetfulness, but he concluded to wait.

The long, lank figure of Sut Simpson looked as if it was a shadow slowly stealing along the dark face of the rock, followed by that of Mickey and the lad. They were as silent as phantoms, each walking as tenderly and carefully as though he was a burglar breaking into the house of some sleeping merchant, whose slumbers were as light as down. Mickey had no doubt that this was continued twice as long as necessary, although he conscientiously strove to carry out the wishes of the scout in that respect. He stumbled once or twice, but that was because of the treacherous nature of the ground.

They must have journeyed fully a quarter of a mile in this fashion before Sut held up in the least. During all this time, so far as Mickey could judge, nothing had been seen or heard of the Apaches, who, supposedly, would have guarded the outlet, in which the two had taken refuge, with a closeness that could not have permitted such an escape; but not one had been encountered.

It was a most extraordinary occurrence all through, and Mickey found it hard to understand how one man, skilled and brave though he was, could perform such a herculean task, for there could be no doubt that to him, under Providence, belonged the exclusive credit. Of course it was Sut who had fired the shot that saved Fred from a terrible death by the grizzly bear, and his well aimed and opportune shots had done the fugitives inestimable service when they were crouching in the fissure and despairing of all hope. But there must have been something back of all this. The scout must have possessed a greater power, which had not become manifest to his friends as yet.

"Now yer can walk with more ease," he said, as he dropped back beside his companions; "but, at the same time, don't talk too loud. Let us all keep as much in the shadder as we kin, for there may be other varmints around, and there's no telling when you're likely to run agin 'em."

"But where are the spalpeens that shut us up in that split in the rocks?"

"They're all behind us, every varmint of them, and thar they're likely to stay for awhile; but, Mickey, I want yer to tell me what happened arter we parted among these mountains, and took different routes far the younker here."

The Irishman related his experience in as brief a manner as possible, the scout listening with a great deal of interest, and asking a question or two.

"The luck was yer's," he said, when the narrator concluded, "of gettin' on the right track, while I got on the wrong."

Mickey scratched his head in his old quizzical way.

"The same luck befell the spalpeens and mesilf. I first got on their thrack, and then they got on mine, so we'll call that square, as Mike Harrigan did when he went back the second night and took the other goat so as to make a pair."

"That was nigh onto a bad fix when yer pitched into that cave, and couldn't find the way out till the wolf showed the younker; but it wasn't so bad as yer think, 'cause I'd been sure to find yer war thar. I know the way in and out of it, and I could have got into it and fetched you out, but yer war lucky 'nough not to need me."

"How was it that ye were so long turning up arter we separated?"

"Wal, Lone Wolf and his braves rode so fast that it was a good while afore I cotched up, and found that he hadn't the younker with him. Then, in course, I turned back and found that yer had flopped so much, off and on yer trail, that there was a good deal of trouble to keep track of yer."

"Where did ye first catch the light of Mickey O'Rooney's illegant and expressive countenance?"

"I saw yer stop to camp this morning a good ways up the pass, whar yer cooked yer piece of antelope meat, and swallowed enough to last yer for a week."

"It was you that shot the grizzly bear just as he was going to kill me?" inquired Fred, with a pleased look in the scarred face of the scout, who smiled in turn as he answered:

"I have a 'spicion it war me and nobody else."

"Why didn't ye come forward and introduce yerself?" inquired Mickey, "it was all a mistake to think that we felt too proud to notice ye, even if ye ain't as good-looking as meself."

"Wal, I thought I'd watch yer awhile, believing I could do yer more service than by jining in, as was showed by what took place arterwards. Whar would yer have been if I'd got shet up in that trap with yer? Lone Wolf would've had our ha'r long ago."

"But how did ye manage to fool the pack into giving us a chance to craap out?"

"That was easy enough when yer understand it."

"I thought it would come aisier to a man who understood how to do it than it did to one who didn't know anything about it."

"Arter picking off one or two of the varmints, that made Lone Wolf mad, and he sent out a couple of his warriors to wipe me out. He didn't think I knowed his game, but I did, and when they got round to where I was I just slid 'em under afore they knowed what the matter was. When he sent a third varmint arter them, and he went back and told the chief that the first two had gone to the eternal hunting grounds, he was so all-fired mad that he left only a half dozen to watch the hole where you was to come out, while he took the rest and come arter me."

"I know a good many of Lone Wolf's signals," added the scout, with a chuckle, "and arter he had been on this side for a while, I dipped down into the pass, and signaled for the rest of 'em to come. They come, every one of 'em, and then I went for you, not certain whether yer war mashed or not. We got away in good time to save ourselves running agin 'em."



CHAPTER XX.

SUT'S CAMP FIRE.

"But where are Lone Wolf and his warriors?" asked Fred.

"Back yonder somewhere," replied the scout, indifferently. "They came over into the woods this side the pass to look for the Kiowas that have been picking off thar warriors. It'll take 'em some time to find the varmints, I reckon."

"It's mesilf that would like to ax a conundrum," said Mickey, "provided that none of the gintlemin prisent object to the same."

Sut gave the Irishman to understand that he was always pleased to hear any inquiry from him, if he asked it respectfully.

"The question is this: How long are we to kape thramping along in this shtyle? Is it to be for one wake or two, or for a month? The raison of me making this respictful inquiry is that the laddy and mesilf have become accustomed to riding upon horses, and it goes rather rough to make the change, as Jimmy O'Brien said when he broke through the ice and was forced to take a wash, arter having done without the same thing for several months."

This gentle intimation from Mickey that he preferred to ride was promptly answered by the scout to the effect that his own mustang was some distance away in the wood, but he was unable to locate either of theirs, which they abandoned at the time they took such hurried refuge in the narrow ravine.

"But what become of all the craturs?" persisted Mickey, who was anything but satisfied at this plodding along. "Lone Wolf and his spalpeens did not ride away upon their horses."

"No, but yer may skulp me if any of 'em are big enough fools to leave their animals where there seems to be any danger of other folks layin' hands on 'em. When the rest of his band come over arter him, as they s'posed in answer to their signal, they took mighty good care not to leave their hosses where thar war any chance for the Kiowas to put their claws onto 'em. They rode off up the pass till they could reach a place whar the brutes could climb up and jine thar owners."

"Then I'm to consider the question settled," responded Mickey, "and we're to tramp all the way to New Bosting, ef the place is still standing. Av coorse we can do the same, which I take to be three or four thousand miles, provided we have the time to do it and ain't disturbed."

Sut, after permitting his friend to hold this opinion for a time, corrected it in his own way.

"Thar ain't no use of tryin' to reach home on foot, any more than thar is of climbing up that wall with yer toes. Arter we strike camp, we'll stop long enough to eat two or three bufflers, and rest, and while yer at that sort of biz, I'll 'light out, and scare up something in the way of hoss flish. Thar's plenty of it in this part of the world, and a man needn't hunt long to find it. Are ye satisfied Mickey?"

The Irishman could not feel otherwise, and he expressed his profound obligations to the scout for the invaluable services he had already rendered them.

"Lone Wolf knows me," said Sut, making a rather sudden turn in the conversation. "Me and him have had some tough scrimmages years ago, as I was tellin' that ar Barnwell, or Big Fowl, rather, that has had the charge of starting the place called New Boston. I've got 'nough scars to remember him by, and he carries a few that he got from me. I have a style of sliding his warriors under, when I run a-foul of 'em, that Lone Wolf understands, and he's larned long ago who it was that wiped out them two varmints that he sent out to look around arter me. Halloa! here we air!"

As he spoke, he reached a break in the continuity of the wall to which they had been clinging. The opening was somewhat similar to that into which Mickey and Fred had been driven in such a hurry, except that it was broader and the slope seemed more gradual.

Simpson turned abruptly to the left, and they began clambering upward. It took a considerable time to reach the level, and when they did so the scout led them back to the edge of the pass, which wound along fifty or a hundred feet below them.

"Thar's whar we've come from," said he, as they looked down in the moonlit gorge; "and while that's mighty handy at times, yet it's a bad place to get cotched in, as yer found out for yerselves."

"No one will dispoot ye, Soot, especially when Lone Wolf and a score of spalpeens appears in front of ye, and whin ye turn about to lave, ye find him and a dozen more in your rear. That was a smart thrick was the same; but if he hadn't showed himsilf in both places at the same time, we would have stood a chance of giving him the slip, as we had good horses under us."

"Can't always be sartin of that. Them varmints have ways of telegraphing ahead of ye to some of thar friends, so that ye'r'll run heels over head into some trap, onless yer understands thar devilments and tricky ways."

"When we were in camp," said Fred, "we saw the smoke of a little fire near by. Was it yours?"

"It war," replied Sut, with a curious solemnity. "I kindled that fire, and nussed it."

"Well, it bothered us a good deal. We didn't know what to make of it, Mickey and I."

"It bothered the varmints a good deal more, which war what it war intended for. I meant it far a Kiowa signal-fire, and if it hadn't been started 'bout that time, you'd had some other grizzly b'ars down on ye in the shape of 'Paches."

"But it didn't help us all the way through; they came down on us a little while afterward."

"That war accident," said Sut. "the purest kind of accident—one of them things that is like to happen, and which we don't look for—a kinder of surprise like."

"As me father obsarved when he found we had twins in the family," interrupted Mickey.

"The chances are ten to one that thing couldn't happen ag'in; but luck, just then, war t'other way. Lone Wolf and his men war on their way home, and had no more idea of meeting yer folks than he had of axing me to come down and act as bridesmaid for his darter, when she gits married."

"Do ye s'pose he knowed us, Soot?" asked the Irishman.

"It isn't likely that he did at first, but the sight of the younker must have made him 'spicious, and arter he rammed you into the rocks, I guess he knowed pretty well how things stood, and he war bound to have both of yer."

"What made him want me so bad?" asked Fred. "I never understood how that was."

The tall scout, standing on the edge of the broad, deep ravine, looked down at the handsome face of the boy, to whom he felt attracted by a stronger affection than either he or the Irishman suspected.

"Bless your soul, my younker, that ere Lone Wolf that they call such a great chief (and I may as well own up and say that he is), is heavy on ransoms and he ain't the only chief that's in that line. That skunk runs off with men, women and boys, and his rule is not to give 'em up ag'in till he gits a good round price. He calculated on making a good thing off you, and I rather think he would."

"Does he always give up those, then, that their friends want to ransom?"

"Not by any means; it's altogether as the notion takes him. He sports more skulps and topknots than any of his brother-chiefs, and he never lets his stock run low. As them other varmints creep up onto him, he shoots ahead by scooping in more topknots, and thar's no use of thar trying to butt ag'in him. He's 'way ahead of 'em, and there he's bound to stay, and they can't help it."

"Then he might have used me the same way, after all the pains he took to get me."

"Jest as like as not. He is as ugly as the devil himself. Two years ago he stole a good-looking gal up near Santa Fe. He had a chance for the biggest kind of ransom; but the poor gal had long, golden hair, and the skunk wanted it for an ornament, and he took it, too, and thinks more of it than any out of his hundred and more. Arter getting yer home among his people, and arter he'd found out thar's a good show fur a big ransom from yer father, jest as like as not he'd make up his mind that the best thing he could do would be to knock ye on ther head and raise yer ha'r, and he'd do it, too."

"Well, thank heaven, none of us are in his hands now, and I pray that he may never get us."

The three were still standing as close to the edge of the ravine as was prudent, so that the moonlight fell about them. They were enabled to see quite a long distance up and down the pass, the uncertain light, however, causing objects to assume a fantastic contour, which would have made an inexperienced person uncertain whether he was looking down upon animate or inanimate objects. They were on the point of moving away, when Fred Munson exclaimed, with some excitement:

"The country seems to be full of camp-fires or signal-fires. Yonder is one just started!"

He pointed up the ravine, and to the other side, where an unusually bright star seemed to be rising over the solitude beyond. It was about a quarter of a mile away, and its brightness such as to show its nature.

"Yes, that's one of 'em," said the scout, in a tone which showed that he had no particular interest in it.

"Can ye rade what the same manes?" asked Mickey, who was gradually accumulating a wonderful faith in the woodcraft of the scout.

But the latter laughed. It would have been the height of absurdity for him to have pretended that he could make anything of the meaning of a simple fire burning at night. It was only when actual signals were made that he could tell what they were intended for.

"It's some of the 'Paches, I s'pose. Lone Wolf is in trouble, but I don't know as we've got anything to do with it. The night is getting along, and we ought to be back to camp by this time."

Without waiting longer, he turned about and moved back into the wood, followed by his two friends.

It seemed strange to both of the latter that he could have left his mustang so far away from the place where his self-imposed duties had called him to bring to naught the cunning of his great enemy, the principal war-chief of the Apaches. But the truth was, the camps of the scout and the redskins were not so widely separated as Mickey and Fred believed. He had selected the best site possible, and took a roundabout course in going to or from it, as he had more means given him of concealing his trail. There were places where the soil was so rocky and stony that the foot left not the slightest imprint of its passage.

They had gone but a short distance from the ravine when they encountered one of the very stretches so valuable to persons in their predicament. No grass or vegetation of any kind impeded their way, and it was like walking over a hard, uncarpeted floor. Making their way across this, they struck into a wood that was denser than any they had encountered thus far. There their progress was slow, but they continued steadily forward, talking but little, and then in guarded tones. About the hour of midnight the camp of Sut Simpson was reached.



CHAPTER XXI.

SAFETY AND SLEEP.

There was nothing especially noticeable in the site which the scout had selected for his camp fire. His principal object had been secrecy and he had obtained it beyond all peradventure. The place was more like a cavern than anything else, except that it was open at the top, but it was walled in on the four sides, so there was barely room for the three to enter. As the scout explained, he was perfectly familiar with that section of the country, and he lost no time in hunting out the spot. He had his horse with him at the time the Apaches drove Mickey and Fred in among the rocks, and he staid until pretty certain they could keep the Apaches at bay until dark, when he made his way to a level spot inclosed by rocks. There he kindled a fire, cooked some antelope and left his mustang to graze and browse near by, while he returned to the assistance of his friends.

"Where did ye shoot that uncleope, or antelope?" asked Mickey.

"I didn't shoot him at all; he's the one you fetched down. Yer left enough for me, so I didn't run the risk of firing my gun when the varmints were so close by, so I sliced out a hunk or two from the carcass, and fetched it along."

"Ye haven't got any of it about ye?"

"Not enough for yer folks—no more than three or four pounds."

"Be the powers but ye're right. That's 'nough to stay our stomach, as me sick aunt remarked after swallowing her twenty-third dumpling."

At the moment the party walked in among the rocks the smoldering embers of the camp-fire were plainly seen. They needed but a little stirring to break forth into flame again, so as to light up the interior, which was about a dozen feet square, with a height of a dozen feet, more or less. When the Irishman signified that something in the way of food would be acceptable, the scout produced it from among the leaves near at hand, and it was devoured with the heartiest kind of appetite. They had drank all the water they needed, and the three assumed easy, lounging attitudes, Mickey lighting his pipe and enjoying himself immensely.

"This is what I call comfortable," he remarked, "as me friend Patsey McFadden observed when the row began at the fair and the whacks came from every quarter. I enjoy it; it's refining, it's soothing; it makes a man glad that he's alive."

"What do you think of it?" asked the scout, turning to Fred, who was reclining upon the heavy Apache blanket, with the appearance of one who was upon the verge of sleep.

"I feel very grateful to you," said he, rousing up, "and I am more contented than I have been in a long time; but I'm afraid all the time that Lone Wolf or some of his braves might find where we are."

Sut smiled in a pitying way, as he replied:

"Don't ye s'pose I'm old 'nough to fix all that? Haven't I larned 'nough of the 'Paches and thar devilments to keep 'em back? Wall, I rather guess I have."

As the night remained so warm that no comfort at all was derived from the fire, it was agreed that it should be left to burn out gradually. It had been kindled originally by Sut for the purpose of cooking his meat, and he had renewed it that his friends might see exactly where they were, and, at the same time, look into each other's faces.

"Let me ax ye," said Mickey, puffing away at his pipe, "whether, whin we start for home, we're going to take the pass, which seems as full of the spalpeens as me head is of grand ideas?"

"I can't be sartin of that," replied Sut, thoughtfully. "We can strike the prairie by going off here in another course; but it will take a long time, and the road is harder to travel. I like the pass a good deal the best, and unless the varmints seem too thick, we'll take it."

"If we could get a good, fair start in the pass, we could kape ahead of 'em all the way till we struck the open prairie, when it would be illigant to sail away and watch them falling behind, like a snail trying to catch a hare."

The scout pointed to the lad, and, turning his head, Mickey saw that he was sound asleep. The poor fellow was so wearied and worn that he could not resist the approach "tired nature's sweet restorer," which carried him off so speedily into the land of dreams.

"I'm glad to obsarve it," said the Irishman, "for the poor chap needs it. He's too young to be in this sort of business, but he couldn't prevint the soorcumstances, and we must help him out of the scrape as best we can."

"I'm with yer," responded the scout. "He's one of the most likely youngsters I've ever met, and I'll risk a good deal to fetch him along. I'm in hopes that we're purty well out of the woods, though we may have some trouble afore we get cl'ar of Lone Wolf and the rest."

"As soon as we get the critters to ride, I s'pose we kin be off."

"That's all, and that won't take me long. I'm used to finding horses that the varmints are fools 'nough to say are thars. One day last spring, I war over near the staked plain all alone, when I got cotched in one of them awful nor'easters, and I never came so near freezin' to death in all my life. Them sort of winds go right to the marrer of yer bones, and it takes yer a week to thaw out. Wall, sir, while I war tryin' to start a fire, a couple of Comanches managed to slip up and steal my mustang. I didn't find it out till three or four hours arter, and then I war mad. I couldn't stand no such loss, so I took the trail, and started off on a deer-trot arter 'em. Wall, sir, I chased them infernal varmints close on to twenty miles afore I run 'em to earth. Then I found 'em down into a deep holler, where I come nigh tumblin' heels over head right in atween 'em afore I knowed who they war. Yer see it war a piece of the meanest kind of business on thar part, 'cause they each had a mustang, and I hadn't any, and they war leadin' mine.

"I laid low for them varmints till night, when I mounted my critter, and struck off over the country leadin' thar two beasts with me. I expected they'd foller, of course, for the two animals that I captured were such beauties as you don't meet every day, so I kept 'em on the go purty steady for two days and nights, when I struck into the chapparal, tethered all three horses, tumbled over onto the ground, and put in four hours of straight solid sleep, such as makes a new man of a feller. Wall, sir, would you believe it? When I woke up and went to mount my hoss, he wasn't thar. Them same three skunks had managed to keep so close onto the trail, that, afore I woke, they slipped up, took all three of the animals, and were miles away when I opened my eyes.

"Wall, yer may skulp me if I wasn't mad, and I couldn't help laughin', too, to think how nice they had come it over me. As the game had begun atween us, I took the trail and follered it for half a week. Yer see, them skunks didn't mean that I shouldn't get the best of 'em agin. They rode fast, and kept it up as long as thar horses could stand it, by which time they had every reason to think they war a hundred miles ahead of me, and so they went in for a good rest, intending when they had got that to keep up thar flight till they reached thar village up near the headwaters of the Canadian. Of course thar wouldn't have been any show for me if I hadn't had a streak of luck. I know that country like a book, and I war purty sartin of the trail them thieves meant to take, so I started to cut across and head 'em off. I hadn't gone far when I come upon the camp of a Comanche war-party, numberin' a hundred. I hadn't any trouble in picking out an animal that suited, and then yer see I war all right, and, for fear I might get off the track, I come back and took up the trail again, and I kept it so hot that when they went into camp I warn't more than two miles away; I didn't want to come any closer, for if they'd found out that I war so near, they wouldn't have give me any kind of chance at all.

"I waited till it was dark, and thar wasn't a bit of moon that night, when I sneaked into camp and got thar three animals agin, and heading for Port Severn, I made up my mind to keep the thing going without giving 'em the slightest chance to pull up. The weather had toned down so that it was comfortable to travel, and arter I got out of hearin' of the camp, I just swung my hat, and kicked and laughed to think how cheap them varmints would feel when they'd come to wake up in the morning, and find out how nice the white man had got ahead of 'em. Yer see, it war just a question as to which of us war the smartest. We weren't going for each other's hair—though we'd done that any other time—but for each other's hosses, and I'd stole thars twice to thar stealin' mine once, and I still held 'em, so I had good reason to crow over 'em. Wal, sir, I made up my mind that they warn't going to come any shenanigan over me, and I struck the shortest line for Fort Severn. I rode through that very pass in which you come so near getting cotched, and in fact, the place whar I got the hosses warn't ten miles from that big cave.

"I had plain sailin' all the way into the fort, and everything went along well. I had only to ride on my critter, when the others galloped along like so many dogs. Yer see, I meant business, and I kept a watch for them varmints all the time. When I stopped for food or rest, I made sartin that they warn't anywhar in sight, and during the three or four days that followed I never slept an hour together. I managed to snatch a few minutes slumber while riding my mustang on a full gallop, but when I stopped to give the animals time to rest, I kept watch, for I felt as though it would break my heart to be outwitted again. I made the best kind of time, and my last camp was within a dozen miles of Fort Severn. I was purty well used up by that time, and making sure that the varmints warn't anywhar within a day's ride, I put in a good two hours sleep. Well I never rightly understood it," added Sut, with a sigh, "and I'm allers ashamed to tell it, but when I went out to mount my mustang, the whole four war gone, and the moccasin tracks on the ground showed who had took 'em. I can't understand to this day how them varmints kept so close behind me, and how they war ready when the chance came into their way; but they war, and they beat me as fairly as the thing was ever done in this world."

"Didn't ye try to folly them?"

"No; I thought I might as well give up. I sneaked into the fort and tried to keep the thing from 'em, but I couldn't tell a straight story, and they found out how it was at last, and I don't suppose I'll ever hear the last of it."

A short time afterward, the two laid down and slept.



CHAPTER XXII.

TWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES.

All three of the little party needed rest, and none of them opened their eyes until morning. As a simple precaution the scout smothered the fire entirely, by scraping the ashes over the embers. Not a ray of moonlight could reach them, and they were wrapped in the most impenetrable darkness.

As might be expected, Sut Simpson was the first to open his eyes, and by the time the sun was up all three were stirring. Enough meat remained over from the feast of the night before to furnish them with a substantial breakfast, and cool, refreshing water was at hand for drink and ablution. When the preliminaries had been completed, Sut went out to learn whether any of the Apaches were threateningly near. He wished, too, to prepare his horse for a ride to a point a dozen miles away, close to the margin of the prairie, where he intended to establish himself until he could procure the two animals that were needed by his companions. He had not been gone ten minutes when he came back in great excitement.

"My mustang is stole, or may I be skulped!" and then he added a general wail: "Them redskins are getting to be the greatest hoss-thieves in the world. I don't know what's to become of us if they're going to keep on in that way."

Mickey laughed heartily, for he recalled the narrative of the night before. In the game for horse flesh it looked very much as if the Apaches could be Sut's tutors.

"May I respectfully inquire where you got that crathur, in the first place?"

"Why, I bought him of the varmints."

"How mooch did you pay?"

"Wall," laughed Sut, in turn, "I haven't paid anything yet."

"I suppose they've sint in their account till they're tired. Finding yer doesn't pay any attention, they've come to take him back again."

"Are you sure that it was done by the Indians?" asked Fred, a little frightened at learning that they had been so close while he slept.

"Thar ain't a bit of doubt. I've looked the ground over, and thar's the trail, as plain as the nose on your face."

"How many?"

"Two."

"And they did it during the night?"

"No," replied the scout, displaying his wonderful woodcraft. "The varmints come yesterday arternoon, or just at dusk, arter I'd took supper and left."

"How do you know that?"

"I'd be a fool if I couldn't tell by the look of the trail how long ago it war made."

It seemed impossible that such was the fact, and yet, young as was Fred, he had heard of such things, and the scout spoke after the manner of one who meant what he said.

"Begorra, but it's meself that has it!" exclaimed Mickey, with a sudden lighting up of the countenance; "they're the same two spalpeens that took your hoss down by the Staked Plain, and then follyed ye up and did the same thing over again, just as ye was going into Fort Severn."

But the scout shook his head.

"The varmints don't know much about pity, but that's too rough a thing even for a Comanche to repeat. I've a s'picion that Lone Wolf had a hand in that, and I'm going for him. Come along."

And the indignant Sut strode out of camp, followed by his friends. He was not the man to submit to such a loss, and they saw that he was in deadly earnest. He neither spoke nor looked behind him for the next quarter of an hour, nor were his friends able to tell what direction he was following, for he changed so often, winding in and out among the trees, that they could form no conjecture as to the general course taken.

They saw that he was following a trail, for he continually looked down at the ground in front of him, and then glanced to the right and left, occasionally inclining his head, as though he was listening for something which he expected to hear. He appeared to be altogether unconscious of the fact that he had companions at all and they sought to imitate his stealthy, cat-like movement, without venturing to speak. After traveling the distance mentioned, and while they were moving along in the same cautious way, the scout suddenly wheeled on his knee, and faced them.

"See yer," said he; "it won't do for you to travel any further."

"What's up?" asked Mickey.

"Why, the trail's getting too hot. I ain't fur from them horses."

"Well, doesn't ye want us to stand by and obsarve the shtyle in which you are going to scoop them in?"

Simpson shook his head.

"Ye are both too green to try this kind of business. I never could get a chance at them varmints if I took yer along. All you've got to do is to stay yer till I get back. That won't be long."

"Suppose you don't get back at all?" asked Fred, anxiously.

"Then yer needn't wait."

"But ain't it probable that some of the Apaches will visit us?"

The scout was quite confident that the contingency would not occur; but, as long as they were in that part of the world, so long were they in danger of the redskins. It was never prudent to lay aside habits of caution; but he did not believe they were liable to molestation at that time. He charged them to keep quiet and always on the alert, and to expect his return within a couple of hours, although he might be delayed until noon. They were not to feel any apprehension unless the entire day should pass without his coming. Still, even that would be possible, he said, without implying anything more than that he had encountered unexpected difficulties in regaining his horse. They were still to wait for him until the morrow, and if he continued absent they were at liberty to conclude that the time had come for him to "pass in his checks." and they were to make the effort to reach home the best way they could. With this understanding they separated.

At the time Sut left his friends the trail was exceedingly "hot," as he expressed it, and he was confident that within the next half hour he could force matters to an issue. The scout was of the opinion that a couple of Apaches had accidently struck his trail, or happened directly upon his norse while he was grazing, and, without suspecting his ownership, aad taken him away. The trail led toward the Apache camp, although by a winding course, and that was not far away. He was desirous of coming up with the marauders before they joined in with the others. In that case he would consider himself fully equal to the task of getting even with them; but it was not likely that they would go into camp when they were so close to the main body.

Shortly after, to his great surprise, he came upon his mustang, tied by a long lariat to the limb of a tree, and contentedly grazing upon the grass, which was quite abundant. There was not the sign of an Indian visible.

"Skulp me! if that ain't a purty way to manage such things!" he exclaimed, astonished at the shape the matter had taken. "Them varmints couldn't have knowed that Sut Simpson owned that hoss, or they'd have tied him up tighter than that, and they'd had somebody down yer to watch him; but they war a couple of greenys, that's mighty sartin. It's a wonder they didn't fetch out some of thar mustangs, and leave 'em whar I could lay my hands onto 'em. But I rather think I've got my own hoss this time, as easy as a chap need expect to get anything in this world."

There was something so curious in the fact of the horse being left alone that Sut was a little suspicious, and decided to reconnoitre thoroughly before venturing further. He was partly hidden behind a large tree and had been so cautious and noiseless in his movements that his mustang, which was one of the quickest to detect the approach of any one, was unaware of his presence.

Sut was on the point of going forward, when a movement in the wood, on the other side of where the animal was grazing, attracted his attention, and he paused. At the same instant his steed lifted his head. There could be no doubt as to the cause, for within the next minute the figure of an Indian stepped forward toward the animal, and proceeded to examine him with a care and minuteness which showed that he expected to identify his ownership.

The eyes of Simpson lit up, and an expression of exultation crossed his countenance, not merely because the redskin before him was in his power, but because he recognized him as no one else but Lone Wolf, the Apache war-chief.

It looked as if the horse-thieves had approached the vicinity of camp with their plunder, and then, securing him to the branch of the tree, had gone in and reported what they had done. Lone Wolf, suspecting, perhaps, that it was the property of his enemy, Sut Simpson, had stolen out quietly and alone to satisfy himself. He knew all the "trade-marks" of the hunter so well that he could not be deceived. This was the theory which instantly occurred to Sut, who muttered to himself:

"Oh, it's mine, and I'm here, though you don't think it, and we'll soon shake hands over it!"

The scout speedily assured himself that Lone Wolf was alone—that he had no half-dozen "retainers" who would immediately precipitate themselves upon him the instant a row should begin. Lone Wolf had no rifle with him, but carried his huge knife at his girdle—one of the most formidable instruments ever seen.

As he walked slowly about the mustang, scrutinizing him very carefully, he brought himself within a yard or two of where Sut Simpson crouched. The latter waited until he was the nearest, when he stepped forward, with his drawn knife in hand, and, placing himself directly in front of the astounded war-chief, said:

"Now, Lone Wolf, we'll make our accounts square!"



CHAPTER XXIII.

BORDER CHIVALRY.

As the scout uttered these words, the Apache whirled like lightning and drew his knife. His swarthy, painted face glowed with passion, and his black eyes twinkled with a deadly light. Seeing that he had no weapon but the knife, Sut Simpson, with a certain rude chivalry that did him credit, left his rifle leaning against the tree, while he advanced with a weapon corresponding to that of his enemy, so that both stood upon the same footing.

"Lone Wolf is glad to meet the white dog that he has hunted so long," said the chieftain, speaking English like a native.

With a sardonic grin Sut replied:

"That's played out, old Pockared"—alluding to the chieftain's pitted face. "I'm just as mad at yer as I kin be, without yer getting up any fancy didoes to upset my nerves. I've come for yer this time, and the best thing yer kin do is to proceed to business."

They were facing each other with drawn knives—almost toe to toe, and each waiting for the other to lead off. It would have been hard to tell which stood the best chance of winning.

Lone Wolf suddenly sprang forward like a panther, and made a vicious lunge with his knife, Sut easily avoiding it by leaping back, when, in turn, he made a similar attempt upon his adversary, who escaped in precisely the same manner. But the scout noticed an unaccountable thing. Lone Wolf had dropped his knife!

True, he picked it up like a flash, and put himself on guard, but how it was that a veteran like him could have made such a slip was totally inexplainable to his foe. But the explanation came the next moment, when the chief, without removing his eyes from those of the white man, cautiously changed the knife to his left hand. His right arm was injured in some way, so that it was unreliable. He had shown this, first by dropping the weapon while attempting to use it, and he showed it again by shifting it to his left hand, thus placing himself at a frightful disadvantage.

Sut saw no wound, yet there could be no doubt of the truth, and his feelings changed on the instant. He felt himself the meanest of men to attempt to overcome an almost helpless foe.

"Lone Wolf," said he, still looking him straight in the eyes, "why don't yer hold yer knife in the hand that yer generally do?"

"Lone Wolf can slay the dog of a white man with which hand he may choose."

"Yer haven't been able to do it with both hands during all these years that you've been tryin', when yer've had yer whole tribe to help yer; but don't make a fool of yerself, Lone Wolf. Are your right arm hurt?"

"Lone Wolf will fight the white dog with his strong arm."

"No, yer don't—that's played out," growled the scout, shoving his knife back in his girdle. "I don't love yer 'any more than I love the devil, and I felt happy to think that I had got a chance at last to git square with yer; but when I lift the top-knot of Lone Wolf and slide him under, he's got to have the same chance that I have. I don't believe you'd act that way toward me; but, then, you're a redskin, and that makes the difference. Lone Wolf, we'll adjourn the fight till you're yerself agin."

And, deliberately turning away, the scout vaulted upon the back of the mustang, cutting the lariat that held him by a sweep of the knife.

"I s'pose you'll own I've got some claim on this beast; so good-by."



And, without turning to look at him again, he rode deliberately away.

The Apache stood like a statute staring at him until he was hidden from view by the intervening trees. Then he turned and walked slowly in the opposite direction, no doubt with strange thoughts in his brain.

"I don't know how that scamp will take it," muttered Sut, as he rode along. "He's one of the ugliest dogs that ever wore a painted face; and if he could catch me with a broken arm or head, he wouldn't want anything better than to chop me up into mincemeat; but, as I told the old varmint himself, he's an Injin and I ain't, and that's what's the matter."

The wood was too dense and the ground too uneven to permit him to ride at a faster gait than a walk, but long before the appointed hour was up, he rejoined his friends, who were as surprised as pleased at his prompt reappearance.

"But where are the bastes that ye promised to furnish us?" inquired Mickey, who had very little relish for the prospect of walking any portion of the distance homeward.

"That's what I'll have for yer before the sun goes down," was the confident reply. "I'll get you one hoss, anyway, which, maybe, is just as good as two, for the weight of the younker don't make no difference, and we kin git along with one beast better than two."

"I submit to your suparior judgment," said the Irishman, deferentially, "and would suggist that the sooner the same quadruped is procured the better all round. I hope the thing won't be delayed, as me aunt obsarved when the joodge sintenced her husband to be hung."

Sut explained that his plan was to ride some distance further, to a spot which he had in mind, where they would be safer against being trailed. There, consequently, they could wait with more security while he went for the much-needed horse. Time was precious, and no one realized it more than Sut Simpson. He turned the head of his mustang toward the left, and, after he had started, leaped to the ground and walked ahead, acting the part of a guide for the horse as well as for his friends.

The surface over which they journeyed was of the roughest nature. The fact of it was, the scout was working the party out toward the open prairie, without availing himself of the pass—an undertaking which would have been almost impossible to any one else. At the same time, by picking his way over the rocky surface, and using all means possible to conceal their trail, he hoped to baffle any pursuit that might be attempted.

Lone Wolf was not the redskin to allow such a formidable enemy as Sut Simpson to walk away unmolested, even though he had received an unexpected piece of magnanimity at his hands. He had learned that it was he who had played such havoc among his warriors the day before, who had deceived them by cunningly uttered signals, and had drawn away the redskins sufficiently to permit his two intended victims to walk out of his clutches. It had been a series of unparalleled exploits, the results of which would have exasperated the mildest tempered Indian ever known.

These thoughts were constantly in the mind of the scout as he picked out the path for his equine and human companions. He took unusual pains, for a great deal depended upon his success in hiding the trail as much as possible. Perhaps it is not correct to say that the Apaches could be thrown entirely off the scent, if they should set themselves to work to run the fugitives under cover. None knew this better than Sut himself, but he knew also that the thing could be partially done, and a partial success could be made a perfect one. That is, by adopting all the artifices at his command, the work of trailing could be rendered so difficult that it would be greatly delayed—so that it would require hours for the Apaches to unearth the hiding-place. And Sut meant to accomplish his self-imposed task during those few hours, so as to rejoin his friends, and resume their flight before the sharp-witted pursuers could overhaul them.

The journey, therefore, was made one of the most difficult imaginable. The mustang was unshod, and yet he clambered up steep places, and over rocks, and through gravelly gullies, where the ordinary horse would have been powerless. The animal seemed to enter into the spirit of the occasion and his performances again and again excited the wonder and admiration of Mickey and Fred. The creature had undergone the severest kind of training at the hands of an unsurpassed veteran of the frontier.

This laborious journeying continued for a couple of hours, during which it seemed to the man and lad that they passed over several miles of the roughest traveling they had ever witnessed. The mustang had fallen several times, but he sprang up again like a dog and showed no signs of injury or fatigue. Finally Sut made a halt, just as Mickey was on the point of protesting, and, turning about, so as to face his companions, he smiled in his peculiar way as he spoke.

"You've stood it pretty well for greenhorns, and now I'm going to give yer a good rest."

"Do you maan to go into camp for a week or a month, or until the warm season is over?"

"I'm going to leave yer here, while I go for some hoss flesh, and it'll take longer time than before."

But the Irishman insisted that he should be allowed to accompany the scout upon this dangerous expedition.

"For the raison that ye are going to pick out this animal for me," he added, "how do I know but what ye'll pick out some ring-boned, spavined critter that trots sideways, and is blind in both eyes?"

Fred, who dreaded the long spell of dreary waiting which seemed before him, asked that he might make one of the company; but Sut would not consent, and he objected to both. He finally compromised by agreeing to take the Irishman, but insisted that the lad should stay behind with his mustang.

"A younker like you couldn't do us a bit of good," added Sut, by way of explanation, "and like as not yer'd get us into the worst kind of difficulty. Better stay whar you be, rest and be ready to mount your new animal as soon as we're back, and scoot away for New Boston."

"How soon will you be back?" he asked, feeling that he ought to make no objection to the decision.

The forenoon was about half gone, and the scout looked up at the sky, removed his coon-skin cap, and thoughtfully wrinkled his brows, as though he were solving some important mental problem.

"Yer may skulp me, younker, but it's a mighty hard thing to tell. Now I got back with my own animile a good deal sooner than I expected, but that same thing ain't likely to happen agin. More likely it'll be t'other way, and we may be gone all day, and p'raps all night."

"And what am I to do all that time?"

"Wait; that'll be easy enough, arter such a rough tramp as I've given yer."

"But suppose some of the Indians come here; I haven't got any gun or pistol, so what shall I do?"

"The hoss thar will let you know when any of the varmints come sneaking round, and he'll do it, too, afore they know whar yer be, so you'll have time to dig out. I ain't much in the way of using a knife," added the scout. "I depends on me gun for a long range, and when I gets into close quarters, I throw this yer (tapping the handle of his knife), round careless like; but I've got a little plaything yer that has stood me well, once or twice, and if it's any help to yer, why, yer are welcome to it. It was give to me by an officer down at Fort Massachusetts."

As he spoke, the scout drew a small revolver, beautifully mounted and ornamented with silver, which he handed to the lad, who, as may be supposed, was delighted with the weapon.

"Just the thing, exactly," he said, as he turned it over in his hand. "There are five barrels."

"And every one is loaded," added the scout. "The pill which it gives a redskin ain't very big, but it's sure, and it'll hunt for him a good ways off; so the dog is apt to bite better than you expect."

Sut told him that he expected to return by nightfall, and possible before, but they might be kept away until morning. Under any circumstances, whether successful or not, they would be back within twenty-four hours, for they could better afford to wait and repeat the attempt than to stay away longer than that. The reason for this decision was that if any of the Apaches should attempt to trail them, and there was every reason to believe that they would, they would not need more than twenty-four hours to track them to this hiding place. It was especially necessary that a collision with them should be avoided as long as possible, for the whites had everything to gain by such a course. As time was valuable, Sut did not delay the departure, and, as he and Mickey gave the lad a cheery good-by, they turned off to the right, and a minute later disappeared from view.

"Here I am alone again," he said to himself, "excepting the horse, and I've got a loaded revolver. Sut don't think those Apaches can get here before to-morrow morning, and he knows more than I do about it, so I hope he's right. We've got thus far on our way home, and it would be a pity if we should fail."

As he looked around, he saw nothing in the place or surroundings which would have commended it to him. There was water in the shape of a trickling stream, and that was plenty everywhere, but there was scarcely a spear of grass visible. The vegetation was stunted and unthrifty in appearance. There were stones and rocks everywhere, with nothing that could serve as a shelter in case of storm. He searched for a considerable distance around, but was unable to find even a shelving rock, beneath which he might creep and gather himself up if one of those terrific tempests peculiar to this region should happen to strike him. Nor did there seem to be any suitable refuge if the Apaches should attack him before he could retreat.

He might crouch down behind some of the boulders and rocks, but the make-up of the surface around him was so similar that three red skins could surround him with perfect ease and without any danger to themselves. Fred therefore made up his mind that he was in about as uncomfortable a situation as a fugitive could well be.



CHAPTER XXIV.

NIGHT VISITORS.

As young Munson expected to remain where he was for the rest of the day, and perhaps through the succeeding night, and knew that he was in great danger, he made it his business to acquaint himself thoroughly with his position and with all the approaches thereto. The first natural supposition was that the Apaches, in following the fugitives to the spot, would, from the force of circumstances, keep to the trail, that being their only guide.

This trail, for the last two hundred yards, led up a slope to where he was stationed upon what might have been called a landing in the ascent of the mountain. At the bottom of this two hundred yards or so was an irregular plateau, beyond which the trail was lost.

"If the Apaches should show themselves before dark," he concluded, as he looked over the ground, "there is where they will be seen, and that's the spot I must watch so long as I can see it."

Fred was able to hide himself from view for the time being, but there was no way in which he could conceal the horse. He was sure to be the first object that would attract the eye of the redskins from below, revealing to them the precise position of the fugitives. This reflection disturbed the lad a good deal, until he succeeded in convincing himself that, after all, it was fortunate that it was so.

The redskins, detecting the mustang among the rocks, would believe that the three whites were there on the defensive. No matter if their force were a half dozen times as great, they would make the attack with a great deal of caution, and would probably manoeuvre around until dark, in the expectation of a desperate fight—all of which Fred hoped would give him a good chance of stealing out and escaping them.

This, as a matter of course, was based upon the idea that Sut Simpson, the veteran scout, had committed a serious error in believing that the pursuit would be slow. And such a mistake he had indeed made, as the lad discovered in due time.

The afternoon wore slowly away, and sunset was close at hand, when Fred was lying upon his face, peering over the upper edge of a rock at the plateau below. The fact of it was, his eyes had been roaming over the same place so long, that the stare had become a dreary, aimless one. He was suddenly aroused, however, to the most intense attention by the discovery of an Apache warrior, who drifted very serenely into the field of vision as if he were part of a moving panorama upon which the lad was gazing.

The boy had been waiting so long for his appearance that he uttered an exclamation, and half arose to his feet in his excitement. But he quickly settled back again, and, with an interest which it would be hard to describe, watched every movement of the redskin, as the tiger watches the approach of its victim.

The indian stalked up the other side of the plateau, walking slowly, looking right and left, in front and rear, and down at the ground, his manner showing that he was engaged in trailing the party, using all the care and skill of which he was the master. Reaching the middle of the plateau, he stopped, looked about, and made a gesture to some one behind him. A moment later, a second indian appeared, and then a third, the trio meeting near the centre of the irregular plot, where they immediately began a conversation.

Each of the three was liberal with his gestures, and now and then Fred could catch the sound of their voices. What it was that could so deeply interest them at such a time, he was at a loss to conjecture, but there could be no doubt that it related to the party they were pursuing.

"That must be all there are of them," he reflected, after several minutes had passed, without any other Apaches becoming visible; "but it seems to me it is a small force to chase us with. I've always understood that the Indians wanted double the number of their enemies, whenever they are going to attack them, but I suppose they've got some plan that I can't understand."

They had been talking but a short time, when Fred understood from their actions that they had detected the mustang above them on the mountain side. They looked up several times, and pointed and gesticulated in the same earnest fashion. It suddenly occurred to the lad that he might play a good point on the redskins, with the idea of delaying any offensive movement they might have under discussion. Pointing his revolver over the rock in front of him, he pulled the trigger.