Bart led the way, and soon after was ensconced in his rifle-pit, with Joses on one side and the Beaver on the other, the rest of the party being carefully arranged. Then the Doctor spread the alarm up above, and the men armed and manned the zigzag way, but all out of sight; and at last, just as it was growing dark, the great plain fortress looked as silent as if there was not a man anywhere upon its heights, and yet in their various hiding-places there were scores, each with his deadly rifle ready to send a return bullet for every one fired by an enemy.

"No firing unless absolutely necessary," was the Doctor's whispered order; and then all was silent while they waited to see if any enemy would really come.

They were not long kept in doubt, for just as the heavens had assumed that peculiar rich grey tint that precedes darkness, and a soft white mist was rising from the depths of the canyon, there was seen, as if arising from out of the plain itself, a dark body moving rapidly, and this soon developed itself into a strong band of Indians, all well-mounted in their half-naked war costume, their heads decked with feathers, and each armed with rifle and spear.

They were in their war-paint, but still they might be disposed to be friendly; and the Doctor was willing to believe it till he saw through his glass that they wore the skull and cross-bones painted in white upon their broad, brown chests, and he knew that they were of the same tribe as had visited them before, and gone off after so severe a lesson.

Still he hoped that they might be friendly, and he was determined that they should not be fired upon without good reason.

A few minutes later he changed his opinion, for, evidently well-drilled by their chief, the Indians charged towards where the tilted waggons were drawn up in the shade of the rock, riding with as much precision as a well-drilled body of cavalry. Then, at a sign, they drew rein in a couple of ranks, about fifty yards from the waggons, and presenting their rifles, without word of warning, fired a volley.

Another volley followed, and another, the thick smoke rising on the evening air, and then, apparently surprised at there being no replying shot, about twenty galloped up with lowered spears, thrust two or three times through the canvas tilts, and galloped back, the whole band sweeping off the next moment as swiftly and as silently as they came, gradually becoming fainter and more shadowy, and then quite disappearing from the watchers' sight.

"They're gone, then?" whispered Bart, drawing a breath of relief.

"Yes; they're a bit scared by the silence," said Joses; "but they'll come back again."

"When?" said Bart.

"Sneaking about in the dark, to stampede the horses and cattle, as soon as ever they know where they are, my boy."

"Yes—come back," said the Beaver in a low tone, and he whispered then to the interpreter.

"Apache dogs will come back in the night when the moon is up," said the interpreter. "They will steal up to the camp like wolves, and die like dogs and wolves, for they shall not have the horses and oxen."

And just then the Beaver, who seemed to comprehend his follower's English, said softly:

"It is good."



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT.

The hours went by, but no sound or sign came from the plain; the stars started out bright and clear, and in the east there was a faint, lambent light that told of the coming of the moon ere long, but still all seemed silent in the desert.

The Englishmen of the party seemed to grow weary, and began talking so loudly that the Doctor sent sternly-worded messages to them to be silent; and once more all was still, save when some one fidgeted about to change his position.

"Why can't they keep still?" growled Joses, softly, as he lay perfectly motionless, listening to every sound. "They don't understand how a man's life—ah, all our lives—may depend on their being still. Look at them Injuns. They never move."

Joses was quite right. Each Indian had taken his place where appointed, and had not moved since, saving to settle down into a part of the rock. The swarthy, muscular fellows might have been part of the stone for any sign they gave of life.

At last the moon rose slowly above the edge of the vast plain, sending a flood of light to bring into prominence every bush and tree, striking on the face of the mountain, and casting its shadow right away over the plain. From where Bart crouched he could not see the moon, for he and his companions were behind rocks, but there was the heavy shadow of the mountain stretching to an enormous distance; and as he watched it, and saw how boldly it was cut, and how striking was the difference between the illumined portions of the plain and those where the shadow fell, he could not help thinking how easily the Indians might creep right up to them and make a bold assault, and this idea he whispered to Joses.

"'Taint much in their way, my lad," he whispered. "Injun don't care about night-fighting, it's too risky for them. They don't mind a sneak up—just a few of them to scare the horses and cattle and make 'em stampede, and they don't mind doing a bit o' spy of the enemy's camp in the dark; but it isn't often they'll fight at night."

"But you expect them to come, don't you?"

"I don't," said Joses; "but the Beaver does, and I give in. He knows best about it, having been so much more among the Injun than I have, and being Injun himself. I daresay they will come, but they won't stampede our horses, I'm thinking, and they won't get the cattle. They may get to know where the ways are into the corral and the horse 'closure, and perhaps find out the path up to the castle, as the master calls it."

"But they couldn't unless they came close up, Joses."

"Well, what's to hinder 'em from coming close up? They'll crawl through the grass, and from stone to stone in the dark there, and who's to see 'em? My eyes are sharp enough, but I don't know as I should see them coming. Let's ask the Beaver what he says."

"The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth has heard all you said," whispered the interpreter, "and he says that the Apaches will come before long to find the way into the camp, and then they will go away again if they do not die."

A curious silence seemed to fall after this, and Bart felt, as he crouched there watching the plains, that something very terrible was going to happen ere long. At another time he would have been drowsy, but now sleep was the last thing of which he thought, all his nerves being overwrought; and as his eyes swept the wide flat plain, he kept on fancying that sooner or later he would see the Apaches coming up to them with the slow, silent approach of so many shadows.

And now it suddenly struck Bart that the shadow of the mountain was shorter than when the moon first rose, and that its edges were more boldly defined, and by this he knew, of course, that the moon was getting higher. At the same time though, soft fleecy clouds began to hide the stars, and at times the shadow of the mountain was blotted out, for the moon was from time to time obscured, and the peculiar indistinctness of the earth seemed to Bart as exactly suited for an enemy's approach.

A slight movement at his side told him that this was the Indians' idea as well, and that to a man they were eagerly scanning the plain and the rugged patches of rock beneath.

Every here and there the fallen masses were piled-up into buttresses, and it was amongst these that, after failing to keep his attention upon the misty plain, Bart let his gaze wander till at last he became convinced that he could see some dark patch in slow motion, and it was long enough before he could satisfy himself that it was only a stone.

He was deceived in this way so often—the various little prominences below him seeming to waver and move, and assume form in accordance with his ideas—that he grew tired of watching, feeling sure at last that there would be nothing to trouble them that night, when suddenly a soft firm hand glided gently and silently as a snake to his wrist, took firm hold of it and pressed it, before rising and pointing down below them into the plain.

Bart followed the direction of the pointing hand, but he could see nothing, and he was about to say so, when gradually sweeping past, a few light clouds must have left the moon partially clear, and with the sudden access of light, Bart could make out two somethings close beside the piled-up rocks, and for some moments he could not be sure that they were men prostrated on their chests crawling towards the entrance to the cattle corral, for they seemed to assimilate with the colour of the earth; and though he strained his eyes, not a trace of motion could he detect.

By degrees though it seemed to him that one of the figures was a man, the other some shaggy kind of crouching beast, till his eyes grew more educated, and he decided that one was an Indian naked to the waist, while the other was wearing his buffalo robe as an additional means of protection.

Bart watched them attentively, and still the figures did not move. At last, however, he saw that they had changed their position, creeping closer to the piled-up rocks, and at last, evidently encouraged by the fact that when the firing took place that evening there was no response, the two savages suddenly rose erect, and went to the piled-up stones that blocked the corral entry.

"How did they know the cattle were there?" said Bart, putting his lips close by Joses' ear.

"Nose!" whispered back the frontiersman, laconically.

"But how could they tell that this was the entrance?" whispered Bart again.

"Eyes!" replied Joses; and he then laid his hand upon Bart's lips, as a sign that he must refrain from speaking any more.

Bart rather chafed at this, and he was growing excited as well, for it troubled him that Joses and the Beaver should have let these two spies go right up to such a treasure as the cattle corral unchallenged; and though he would not have thought of firing at the savages, he could not help thinking that something ought to be done—what he could not say— for the low grating noise he now heard was certainly the Indians moving one of the blocks of stone that had so carefully been placed there that afternoon.

"They're opening the corral, my lad," said Joses just then, in a hoarse whisper; "and if we don't stop 'em we shall be having 'em drive the whole lot of bullocks and cows right away into the plains, and never see a hoof again."

"What's to be done, then?" whispered Bart, whose face was covered with a cold dew, while his cheeks were at fever heat.

"Well, my lad, they seem to have found out the way easy enough by crawling over the cattle trail, and it's a very unpleasant thing to do, but I suppose we shall either have to be robbed, or else we must stop 'em; so as the Doctor won't like all our cattle to go, I'm going to stop 'em."

"It's very horrible," whispered Bart.

"Horrid, my lad; so's having your cattle and horses stole, for if they get one they're bound to have t'other; so is being starved to death; and the worsest of all is being scalped, and that's sure to come if we let them brutes go."

"But it is so horrible to shoot them, Joses," panted Bart.

"'Tis, my lad, so don't you do it. Leave it to us. Hah! that's a big stone down, and the cattle's beginning to fidget. Now, Beaver, what do you say?"

The Beaver answered with his rifle, which gave a sharp report, just as the moon shone out a little more clearly.

"Hit!" said Joses, laconically, as they saw quite plainly the two Indians start back from the rocks right out into the clear moonlight, one of them uttering a fierce, hoarse yell, and staggering as if about to fall, when the other sprang forward and caught him by the chest, holding him up, and, as it was plain to see, forming of the body of his wounded companion a shield to protect himself from the bullets of their unseen assailants.

"They must not go away and tell tales," muttered Joses, as he took aim; but just then the interpreter's rifle rang out, and the half-nude Indian turned partly round, so that they could see in white paint upon his breast, seeming to gleam horribly in the moonlight, the ghastly skull and cross-bones that seemed to have been adopted as the badge of the tribe. Then he fell back into the arms of his friend, who clasped his arms round him, and backed slowly, keeping the wounded man's face to the firing party, while, as if mechanically, the injured savage kept step.

Crack went the Beaver's rifle again, and there was a dull thud telling of a hit, but still the two Indians retreated slowly.

Crack! went Joses' rifle, and he uttered a low growl.

"I'll swear I hit him, but I dunno whether it touched the t'other one—a cowardly skunk, to sneak behind his fellow like that."

Crack—crack—crack—crack! four rifles uttered their reports, which seemed to reverberate from the face of the mountain; and as the smoke rose slowly, and Bart could gaze at the moonlit plain, and try to read the meaning of the fierce yell of defiance that he had heard arise, he saw that the first Indian lay upon his back with the moon shining upon his ghastly, painted breast, while his companion was rapidly disappearing as he ran swiftly over the plain.

The Beaver's rifle rang out again, and he started up into a kneeling position, gazing after the object at which he had fired, while his fingers mechanically reloaded his piece. Then he uttered a low guttural cry of anger, and sank down into his former position.

"Missed him, Beaver," said Joses, quietly.

"No," was the sharp retort. "He was hit, but he will escape to his dogs of people."

This was a tremendous speech for the chief, who, however, seemed to be acquiring the English tongue with remarkable rapidity, the fact being that he had long known a great deal of English, but had been too proud to make use of it till he could speak sufficiently well to make himself understood with ease, and therefore he had brought up the interpreter as a medium between him and his English friends.

They watched through the rest of the night, after communicating to the Doctor the reason for the firing, but there was no fresh alarm. The moon rose higher, and shed a clear effulgence that seemed to make the plain as light as day, while the shadow of the mountain appeared to become black, and the ravines and cracks in its sides to be so many dense marks cut in solid silver.

Daylight at last, with the silvery moon growing pale and the stars fading out. First a heavy grey, then a silvery light, then soft, roseate tints, followed by orange flecks far up in the east, and then one glorious, golden blaze to herald the sun, as the great orb slowly seemed to roll up over the edge of the plain, and bring with it life, and light, and hope.

"Hurrah!" shouted Bart, as he rose from his cramped position in the rifle-pit. "Oh, Joses! my back! my legs! Ah, ah! Oh my! Do rub me! I'm so stiff I can hardly move."

"That'll soon go off, my lad. There, I suppose most of us may go off duty now, for I can't see any Injun out on the plains."

"Yes: hundreds!" said the Beaver, who had been shading his eyes and gazing attentively over the sunlit expanse of rocky landscape dotted with trees.

"Where, Beaver?" said Joses.

For answer the chief pointed right away, and both Joses and Bart tried to make out what he meant, but in vain.

"Your eyes are younger than mine, Bart," said Joses at last, gruffly. "I can't see nothing—can you?"

"No, Joses," replied Bart. "I can see nothing but trees."

The Beaver smiled.

"Ah, it's all very well for you to laugh," said Joses, bluntly, "but you've got eyes that see round corners of hills, and through clumps of wood and bits of mountain. I never saw such eyes in my life."

"My eyes will do," said the Beaver, quietly. "The Apaches are over yonder. They will be on the watch to carry off the cattle or to kill us if they can."

"Yes, that's it," said Joses; "if they can."

Without another word, the Beaver and half-a-dozen of his followers went down the slope, and climbed the stone gateway, to leap into the plain, where, without a word of instruction, they bore off the body of the fallen Indian, and buried it down in the rift where the other two had been laid, after which they returned to partake of the morning meal that had been prepared—fires being lit in various crevices and chasms off the zigzag way; and this meal being partaken of in the bright morning sunshine, seemed to make the dangers of the night appear trifling, and the spirits of the people rose.

In fact, there was no time for despondency. Every man knew when he came out to adventure for silver that he would have to run the risk of encounters with the Indians, and nothing could be more satisfactory than their position. For they had a stronghold where they could set half the Indian nations at defiance, while the savages could not hinder their mining operations, which could be continued on the mountain if they were invested, and at the edge of the canyon or down below, where there was nothing to fear.

The greatest danger was with respect to the cattle, which had to be drawn out to pasture along near the side of the lake, and this was done at once, every available man mounting his horse and forming guard, so as to protect the cattle and pasture his horse at the same time.

This was carried on for some days, and a careful watch was kept out towards the plain; but though bodies of Indians were seen manoeuvring in the distance, none approached the mountain, whose flag waved out defiance; and as night after night passed without alarm, there were some of the party sanguine enough to say that the Indians had had their lesson and would come no more.

"What do you say to that, Beaver?" said Joses, laying his hand upon the chiefs shoulder, and looking him in the face.

"Indian dog of Apache never forgives," he replied quietly. "They may come to-day—to-morrow—next moon. Who can tell when the Apache will come and strike? But he will come."

"There, Master Bart, hear that!" said Joses. "How about going down into the canyon to spear salmon now?"

"The young chief, Bart, can go and spear salmon in the river," said the Beaver, whose face lit up at the prospect of engaging in something more exciting than watching cattle and taking care that they did not stray too far. "The Beaver and his young men will take care the Apaches do not come without warning."



CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

SPEARING SALMON UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

The undertaking of the chief was considered sufficient, and as a change of food would be very acceptable to the little mining colony, the Doctor made no difficulty about the matter, so the Beaver sent out scouts into the plain to give the earliest notice of the appearance of danger, and to supplement this, the Doctor posted Harry, their English follower, in the best position on the mountain, with the powerful glass, so that he might well sweep the plain, and give an earlier notice of the enemy's coming than even the Indians could supply.

The Beaver looked very hard at the telescope, and said that it was very great medicine, evidently feeling for it a high degree of respect. Then certain other arrangements having been made, including the choice of half-a-dozen of the Mexican greasers to carry the salmon that Bart said laughingly they had not yet caught, the fishing party, which included Bart, Joses, the Beaver, the interpreter, and six more Indians, all started for the patch of forest.

They were all well-armed, and, in addition to their weapons, the Indians had contrived some ingeniously formed three-pronged spears, keen as lancets, and well barbed, ready for use in the war against the fish.

The deep rift leading down to the canyon was soon found, and this time Bart approached cautiously, lest there should be another of the rattle-tailed snakes lurking in a crevice of the rock; but this time they had nothing of the kind to encounter. A magnificent deer, though, sprang from a dense thicket, and Bart's rifle, like that of Joses, was at his shoulder on the instant.

"No, no!" cried the Beaver, eagerly; and they lowered the pieces.

"Ah!" cried Bart, in a disappointed tone, "I had, just got a good sight of him. I know I should not have missed."

"The Beaver's right, Master Bart," said Joses, quietly. "If we fired, the sound might travel to the Apaches, and bring 'em down upon us. Best not, my lad. We'll get the salmon without our guns."

They entered the "chimney," and, acquainted now with its peculiarities, the party descended much more quickly than on the previous occasion. The way was clearer, too, the vines and tangled growth having been cleared at the first descent, when pieces of rock were removed, and others placed in clefts and cracks to facilitate the walking, so that, following the same plan again, there was a possibility of the slope becoming in time quite an easy means of communication between the canyon and the plain.

They reached the bottom in safety, and probably to make sure that there should be no such accident as that to the Doctor occur unseen, the chief took the precaution of planting the party on rocks out in the stream well in view one of the other, and just where the fish would pass. He then set a couple of his men to watch for danger, and the spearing began.

"Now, Master Bart," said Joses, "sling your rifle as I do, and let's see what you can do in spearing salmon."

"Hadn't we better leave our rifles ashore there, under the trees?" replied Bart.

"Yes, my lad, if you want to be taken at a disadvantage. Why, Master Bart, I should as soon think of leaving an arm or a leg ashore as my rifle. No, my lad, there's no peace times out here; so no matter how inconvenient it may be, sling your piece, and be always prepared for the worst."

"Oh, all right, Joses," replied Bart, pettishly, and he slung his rifle.

"Oh, it's of no use for you to be huffy, my lad," growled Joses. "You never know when danger's coming. I knowed a young fellow once up in the great north plains. He'd been across the Alkali Desert in a bad time, and had been choked with the heated dust and worried with the nasty salty stuff that had filled his eyes and ears, so that when he got to a branch of one of the rivers up there that was bubbling over rocks and stones just as this may be, and—ah, stoopid! Missed him!" cried Joses, after making a tremendous stab at a salmon.

"Well, Joses?"

Well! no, it wasn't well. He thought he must have a good swim, and so he took off his clothes, laid his rifle up against the trunk of a big pine-tree, and in he went, and began splashing about in the beautiful cool clear water, which seemed to soften his skin, and melt off quite a nasty salt crust that had made him itchy and almost mad for days.

Well, this was so good that he swam farther and farther, till he swam right across to where the stream ran fast right under the steep rock, not so big as this, but still so big and steep that a man could not have climbed up it at the best of times, and—"Got him, my lad?" he exclaimed, as he saw Bart make a vigorous thrust with his spear.

"Yes, I have him," cried Bart, excitedly, as he struggled with the vigorous fish, a large one of fourteen or fifteen pounds' weight, one which he successfully drew upon the rocks, and after gloating over its silvery beauty, carried to the shore, returning just in time to see Joses strike down his fish-spear, and drag out a fish a little larger than the first one caught.

"That's a fine one, Master Bart," growled Joses, as he set off to step from stone to stone to the bank, while Bart, eager and excited, stood with poised spear, gazing intently down into the clear depths for the next beauty that should come within his reach.

Just then one came up stream, saw the danger impending, and went off like a flash through the water, turning slightly on his side and showing his great silvery scales.

"Too late for him, Joses," cried Bart.

"Ah, you must be sharp with them, my lad, I can tell you," cried his companion. "Well, as I was telling of you, the rock on the opposite side of the river rose up like a wall, and there was just a shelf of stone big enough for a man to land on before he tried to swim back. Those stones, too, were right in the sunshine, and the wall behind them was just the same, and they'd be nice and warm."

"How do you know, Joses?"

"How do I know? because I've swum across that river often, and it's very cold—so cold that you're glad to get out and have a good warm on the rocks before you try to swim back. Got him again?"

"Yes," replied Bart, who had made a successful thrust. "Only a small one though."

"Not so bad, my lad; not so bad. He's a good eight or nine pounds. Well, as I was telling you, this young man got out on the bit of a shelf, and was warming himself, when his eyes nearly jumped out of his head, for he saw half-a-dozen Injuns come from among the pine-trees, and one of them, when he saw that young man there, ran loping towards where the gun stood, caught it up, and took a quick aim at him. Now, then— Ah, I've got you this time," cried Joses, spearing the largest fish yet caught, dragging it out of the water, and taking it ashore.

"Fine one, Joses?" cried Bart.

"Yes; he's a pretty good one. Ah, you missed him again. It wants a sharp poke, my lad. Well, now then," he added, as Bart, recovered himself after an ineffectual thrust, "what ought that young man to have done, Master Bart?"

"Taken a header into the river, dived, and swum for his life."

"Right, boy; but he was so scared and surprised that he sat there staring at the Injun, and gave him a chance to fire at him, being so near that the shot whistled by his ear and flattened on the rock behind, and fell on the shelf where he was sitting."

"That woke him up, I suppose?" said Bart.

"It just did, my lad; and before the Indians knew where he was, he went plop into the river and disappeared, and the Injun ran down to catch him as he came up again."

"And," said Bart, quickly, "they didn't catch sight of his head when he came above the water, because he swam up with the eddy into a dark pool among some rocks, and squatted there, with only his nose above the water, till they thought he was drowned, and went, and then he crept out."

"Why, how did you know?" growled Joses.

"Because you've told me half-a-dozen times before. I recollect now," said Bart, "only you began it in a different way, so that I thought it was a new story; and you were that young man, Joses."

"Course I was," growled the other; "but hang me if I tell you a story again."

"Never mind, Joses; here's another," cried Bart, laughing.

"And here's a bigger one, Master Bart," said Joses, chuckling.

"What splendid sport!" cried Bart, as he followed Joses ashore with his prize, and added it to the silvery heap.

"Ay, it ain't amiss. We shall give them a reg'lar treat in the camp, that we shall."

"Look, Joses, the Beaver's got a monster. He has let it go. What's he bounding ashore for like that?"

"Quick, Master Bart—danger!" cried Joses, excitedly, as a warning cry rang along the river. "Look out! This way!"

"What's the danger?" cried Bart, leaping ashore and un-slinging his rifle.

"Injun, my lad; don't you see 'em? they're coming down the canyon. This way. Never mind the fish; make straight for the chimney. We can hold that again 'em anyhow."

Crack—crack! went a couple of rifles from some distance up the river, and the bullets cut the boughs of the trees above their heads.

Bart's immediate idea was to sink down amongst the herbage for cover and return the shot, but the Beaver made a rush at him, shouting, "No, no, no!" and taking his place, began to return the fire of the approaching Indians, bidding Bart escape.

"I don't like leaving all that fish after all, Master Bart," said Joses; "they'd be so uncommon good up yonder. Go it, you skunks! fire away, and waste your powder! Yah! What bad shots your savages are! I don't believe they could hit our mountain upstairs there! Hadn't we better stop and drive them back, Beaver, and let the greasers carry away the fish?"

Crack—crack—crack! rattled the rifles; and as the faint puffs of smoke could be seen rising above the bushes and rocks high up the canyon, the sounds of the firing echoed to and from the rocky sides till they died away in the distance, and it seemed at last, as the firing grew a little hotter, and was replied to briskly by Joses and the Indians, that fifty or sixty people were firing on either side.

The attack was so fairly responded to that the Apaches were checked for the time, and Joses raised himself from the place he had made his rifle-pit, and called to the Mexican greasers to run and pick up the fish, while he and the Indians covered them; but though he called several times, not one responded.

"What's come of all them chaps, Master Bart?" he cried.

"I think they all got to the chimney, and began to climb up," replied Bart.

"Just like 'em," growled Joses. "My word, what a brave set o' fellows they are! I don't wonder at the Injun looking down upon 'em and making faces, as if they was an inferior kind of beast. Ah, would you?"

Joses lowered himself down again, for a bullet had whizzed by in unpleasant proximity to his head.

"Are you hurt, Joses?" cried Bart, half rising to join him.

"Keep down, will you, Master Bart! Hurt me? No. They might hit you. I say, have you fired yet?"

"Yes, three times," replied Bart; "but I fired over their heads to frighten them."

"Hark at that!" cried Joses; "just as if that would frighten an Injun. It would make him laugh and come close, because you were such a bad shot. It does more harm than good, my lad."

Crack!

Joses' rifle uttered its sharp report just then, and the firing ceased from a spot whence shot after shot had been coming with the greatest regularity, and the rough fellow turned grimly to his young companion.

"I don't like telling you to do it, Master Bart, because you're such a young one, and it seems, of course, shocking to say shoot men. But then you see these ain't hardly like men; they're more like rattlesnakes. We haven't done them no harm, and we don't want to do them no harm, but all the same they will come and they'll kill the lot of us if they can; so the time has come when you must help us, for you're a good shot, my lad, and every bullet you put into the Injun means one more chance for us to save our scalps, and help the Doctor with his plans."

"Must I fire at them then, Joses?" said Bart, sadly.

"Yes, my lad, you must. They're five or six times as many as we are, and they're coming slowly on, creeping from bush to bush, so as to get a closer shot at us. There, I tell you what you do; fire at their chests, aim right at the painted skull they have there. That'll knock 'em down and stop 'em, and it'll comfort you to think that they may get better again."

"Don't talk foolery, Joses," cried Bart, angrily, "Do you think I'm a child?"

Joses chuckled, and took aim at a bush that stood above a clump of rocks, one from which another Indian was firing regularly; but just then the Beaver's rifle sent forth its bullet, and Bart saw an Indian spring up on to the rocks, utter a fierce yell, shake his rifle in the air, and then fall headlong into the river.

"Saved my charge," said Joses, grimly. "There, I won't fool about with you, Master Bart, but tell you the plain truth. It's struggle for life out here; kill or be killed; and you must fight for yourself and your friends like a man. For it isn't only to serve yourself, lad, but others. It's stand by one another out here, man by man, and make enemies feel that you are strong, or else make up your mind to go under the grass."

Bart sighed and shuddered, for he more than once realised the truth of what his companion said. But he hesitated no longer, for these savages were as dangerous as the rattlesnakes of the plains, and he felt that however painful to his feelings, however dreadful to have to shed human blood, the time had come when he must either stand by his friends like a man, or slink off like a cur.

Bart accepted the stern necessity, and watching the approach of the Indians, determined only to fire when he saw pressing need.

The consequence was that a couple of minutes later he saw an Indian dart from some bushes, and run a dozen yards to a rock by the edge of the swift river, disappear behind it, and then suddenly his head and shoulders appeared full in Bart's view; the Indian took quick aim, and as the smoke rose from his rifle the Beaver uttered a low hissing sound, and Bart knew that he was hit.

Not seriously apparently, for there was a shot from his hiding-place directly after, and then Bart saw the Indian slowly draw himself up into position again, partly over the top of the rock, from whence he was evidently this time taking a long and careful aim at the brave chief, who was risking his life for the sake of his English friends.

Bart hesitated no longer. Joses had said that he was a good shot. He was, and a quick one; and never was his prowess more needed than at that moment, when, with trembling hands, he brought his rifle to bear upon the shoulders of the savage. Then for a moment his muscles felt like iron; he drew the trigger, and almost simultaneously the rifle of the savage rang out. Then, as the smoke cleared away, Bart saw him standing erect upon the rock, clutching at vacancy, before falling backwards into the river with a tremendous splash; and as Bart reloaded, his eyes involuntarily turned towards the rushing stream, and he saw the inanimate body swept swiftly by.

"What have I done!" he gasped, as the cold sweat broke out upon his brow. "Horrible! What a deed to do!" and his eyes seemed fixed upon the river in the vain expectation of seeing the wretched savage come into sight again.

Just then he felt a touch upon his arm, and turning sharply found himself face to face with the Beaver, whose shoulder was scored by a bullet wound, from which the blood trickled slowly down over his chest.

As Bart faced him he smiled, and grasped the lad's hand, pressing it between both of his.

"Saved Beaver's life," he said, softly. "Beaver never forgets. Bart is brave chief."

Bart felt better now, and he had no time for farther thought, the peril in which they were suddenly appearing too great.

For the Beaver pointed back to where the chimney offered the way of escape.

"Time to go," the Beaver said. "Come."

And, setting the example, he began to creep from cover to cover, after uttering a low cry, to which his followers responded by imitating their leader's actions.

"Keep down low, Master Bart," whispered Joses. "That's the way. The chimney's only about three hundred yards back. We shall soon be there, and then we can laugh at these chaps once we get a good start up. We must leave the fish though, worse luck. There won't be so many of 'em to eat it though as there was at first. Hallo! How's that?"

The reason for his exclamation was a shot that whizzed by him—one fired from a long way down the canyon in the way they were retreating, and, to Bart's horror, a second and a third followed from the same direction, with the effect that the savages who had attacked first gave a triumphant yell, and began firing quicker than before.

"Taken between two fires, Master Bart," said Joses, coolly; "and if we don't look out they'll be up to the chimney before we can get there, and then—"

"We must sell our lives as dearly as we can, Joses," cried Bart.

"Good, lad—good, lad!" replied Joses, taking deadly aim at one of the Indians up the river, and firing; "but my life ain't for sale. I want it for some time to come."

"That's right; keep up the retreat. Well done, Beaver!"

This was an account of the action of the chief, who, calling upon three of his men to follow him, dashed down stream towards the chimney, regardless of risk, so as to hold the rear enemies in check, while Bart, Joses, and the other three Indians did the same by the party up stream, who, however, were rapidly approaching now.

"I want to know how those beggars managed to get down into the canyon behind us," growled Joses, as he kept on steadily firing whenever he had a chance. "They must have gone down somewhere many miles away. I say, you mustn't lose a chance, my lad. Now then; back behind those rocks. Let's run together."

Crack—crack—crack! went the Indians' rifles, and as the echoes ran down the canyon, they yelled fiercely and pressed on, the Beaver's men yelling back a defiance, and giving them shot for shot, one of which took deadly effect.

There was a fierce yelling from down below as the savages pressed upwards, and the perils of the whole party were rapidly increasing.

"Didn't touch you, did they, Master Bart?" cried Joses from his hiding-place.

"No."

"Keep cool, then. Now, Injuns! Another run for it—quick!"

A dash was made after the Beaver to a fresh patch of cover, and the firing from above and below became so fierce that the position grew one of dire extremity.

"Look out, my lads!" cried the frontiersman; "they're getting together for a rush. You must each bring down your man."

There was no mistaking the plan of the Indians now, and Bart could see them clustering into some bushes just at the foot of the mountain where it ran perpendicularly down, forming part of the canyon wall. They seemed to be quite thirty strong, and a bold rush must have meant death to the little party, unless they could reach the chimney; and apparently the savages coming up from below had advanced so far that the Beaver had not been able to seize that stronger point.

"Keep cool, Master Bart. We must stand fast, and give 'em such a sharp fire as may check them. As soon as we've fired, you make a run for it, my lad, straight for the chimney. Never mind anybody else, but risk the firing, and run in and climb up as fast as you can."

"And what about you, Joses?" asked Bart.

"I'll stop and cover your retreat, my lad; and if we don't meet again, tell the Doctor I did my best; and now God bless you! good-bye. Be ready to fire."

"I'm ready, Joses, and I shan't go," replied Bart firmly.

"You won't go? But I order you to go, you young dog!" cried Joses, fiercely.

"Well, of all the—look out, Beaver! Fire, Master Bart! Here they come!"

Quite a volley rang out as some five-and-twenty Indians came leaping forward, yelling like demons, and dashing down upon the little party. Two of this number fell, but this did not check them, and they were within fifty yards of Bart, who was rapidly re-charging, when Joses roared out: "Knives—knives out! Don't run!"

The bravery of the Indians, of Joses, and Bart would have gone as nothing at such a time as this, for they were so terribly outnumbered that all they could have done would have been to sell their lives as dearly as they could. In fact, their fates seemed to be sealed, when help came in a very unexpected way, and turned the tide of affairs.

The savage Apaches had reduced the distance to thirty yards now, and Bart felt quite dizzy with excitement as he fired his piece and brought down one of the enemy, whose ghastly, painted breasts seemed to add to the horror of the situation.

Another moment or two, and then he knew that the struggle would come, and dropping his rifle, he wrenched his knife from its light sheath, when suddenly there was a fierce volley from on high—a fire that took the Indians in the rear. Six fell, and the rest, stunned by this terrible attack from a fresh quarter, turned on the instant, and fled up the canyon, followed by a parting fire from which a couple more fell.

"Hurray!" shouted Joses; "now for the chimney. Come, Master Bart! Now, Beaver—now's your time!"

They ran from cover to cover, meeting shot after shot from below, and in a minute were close up with the Beaver and his three men, who were hard pressed by the advancing party.

"Now, Beaver," cried Joses, finishing the re-loading of his piece, "what do you say to a bold rash forward—right to the mouth of the chimney?"

"Yes," said the chief; "shoot much first."

"Good," cried Joses. "Now, Master Bart, fire three or four times wherever there's a chance, and then re-load and forward."

These orders were carried out with so good an effect that the Apaches below were for the moment checked, and seemed staggered by this accession of strength, giving the little party an opportunity to make their bold advance, running from bush to bush and from rock to rock until they were well up to the mouth of the chimney, but now in terribly close quarters with their enemies, who held their fire, expecting that the advance would be continued right on to a hand-to-hand encounter.

Then there was a pause and a dead silence, during which, in obedience to signs made by the Beaver, first one and then another crept behind the bushes to the mouth of the chimney, entered it, and began to ascend. There was a bit of a fight between Bart and Joses as to which should be first, with the result that the latter went first, then Bart followed, and the Beaver came last.

So close was it, though, that as they climbed up the steep narrow rocky slope there was a fierce yell and a rush, and they saw the light slightly obscured as the Apaches dashed by the entrance in a fierce charge, meant to overwhelm them.

Directly after the canyon seemed to be filled with yells of disappointment and rage, as the Apaches found that their intended victims had eluded them just as they had vowed their destruction.

This gave a minute's grace, sufficient for the fugitives to get some little distance up the narrow rock passage, the Beaver and Bart pausing by the top of the steepest piece of rock about a hundred feet above the entrance, which, overshadowed as it was by trees, had a beautifully peaceful appearance as seen against the broad light of day.

All at once there was a loud yell, betokening the fact that the entrance to the chimney had been seen, and directly after a couple of Indians leaped in and began to climb.

Bart's and the Beaver's rifles seemed to make but one report, when the narrow chasm was filled with the vapour of exploded gunpowder, and the two Indians fell back.

"Climb," whispered the Beaver; and Bart led the way, the chief keeping close behind him, till they were on the heels of the rest of the party, who had halted to see if they could be of use.

The entry was now hidden, and they stopped to listen, just as the successive reports of three rifles came echoing up in company with the curious pattering noise made by the bullets, which seemed as if they glanced here and there against the stones, sending fragments rattling down, but doing no farther harm, for the fugitives were not in the line of the shooters' sight.

The retreat went on, with the Beaver and Joses taking it in turn to remain behind at a corner of the rift or some barrier of rock to keep the Apaches in check, for they kept coming fiercely on. Now and then they were checked by a shot, but in that dark narrow pass there was but little opportunity for firing, and the chief thing aimed at was retreat.

The top was reached at last, and as they neared it, to Bart's great delight, he found that there was a strong party there, headed by the Doctor, who had heard the firing, and came to his followers' relief.

The main thing to decide now was how to hold the Apaches in check while a retreat was made to the mountain, where all was right, the horses and cattle being in their strong places, and every one on the alert.

The Beaver decided the matter by undertaking, with one of his men, to keep the Apaches from getting to the top till their friends had reached the rock, where they were to be ready to cover his retreat.

The Doctor made a little demur at first, but the chief insisted, and after an attempt on the part of the Apaches at fighting their way up had been met by a sharp volley, the whole party, saving the Beaver and one follower, retreated to the rock fortress, where they speedily manned all the points of defence, and waited eagerly for the coming of the chief. But to Bart's horror he did not come, while simultaneously there was a shout from the Doctor and another from Joses, the one giving warning that a very strong body of mounted men was appearing over the plains, the other that the savages from the canyon had fought their way up the chimney, and were coming on to the attack.



CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

MOURNING LOST FRIENDS.

The failure of the Beaver and his follower to put in an appearance made Bart's heart sink down like lead, while Joses turned to him with a dull look of misery in his eye.

"It's bad, Master Bart," he said; "it's very bad. I hates all Indians as hard as ever I can hate 'em, but somehow the Beaver and me seemed to get on well together, and if I'd knowed what was going to happen, it isn't me as would have come away and left him in the lurch."

"No, Joses, neither would I," said Bart, bitterly. "But do you think—"

"Do I think he has escaped, my lad?" said Joses, sadly, for Bart could not finish his speech; "no, I don't. The savage creatures came upon him sudden, or they knocked him over with a bullet, and he has died like an Indian warrior should."

"No," said a sharp voice behind them; and the interpreter stood there with flashing eyes gazing angrily at the speakers. "No," he cried again, "the Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth is too strong for the miserable Apache. He will come back. They could not kill a warrior like that."

"Well, I hope you're right, Mr Interpreter," growled Joses. "I hope you are right, but I shall not believe it till I see him come."

There was no time for further conversation, the approach of the enemies being imminent. On the one side, far out on the plain, were scattered bodies of the Apaches, evidently in full war-paint, riding about in some kind of evolution; and, as the Doctor could see with his glass, for the most part armed with spears.

Some of the men bore the strong short bow that had been in use among them from time immemorial, and these could be made out by the thick quiver they had slung over their backs. But, generally speaking, each Indian carried a good serviceable rifle, pieces of which they could make deadly use.

At present there seemed to be no intention of making an immediate attack, the Indians keeping well out in the plain beyond the reach of rifle-ball, though every now and then they gathered together, and as if at the word of command, swept over the ground like a whirlwind, and seemed bent upon charging right up to the mountain.

This, however, they did not do, but turned off each time and rode back into the plain.

"Why do they do that, Joses?" said Bart, eagerly.

"To see all they can of our defences, my lad. They'll come on foot at last like the others are doing, though I don't think they'll manage a very great deal this time."

For the party from the canyon, now swollen to nearly fifty men, were slowly approaching from the direction of the chimney, and making use of every tuft, and bush, and rock, affording Bart a fine view from the gallery of the clever and cunning means an Indian will adopt to get within shot of an enemy.

They had crept on and on till they were so near that from the hiding-place in the gallery which protected the cattle Joses could have shot them one by one as they came along, the men being quite ignorant of the existence of such a defence, as nothing was visible from the face of the rock.

"I shan't fire so long as they don't touch the horses or the cattle," said Joses, "though perhaps I ought to, seeing how they have killed our best friend. Somehow, though, I don't feel to like shooting a man behind his back as it were. If they were firing away at us the thing would be different. I could fire them it back again then pretty sharply, I can tell you!"

Joses soon had occasion to use his rifle, for, finding themselves unmolested, the Indians took advantage of every bit of cover they could find; and when this ceased, and there was nothing before them but a patch of open plain, they suddenly darted forward right up to the cattle corral, the tracks of the animals going to and fro plainly telling them the entrance, as the odour did the men who had crept up by night.

Reaching this, they made a bold effort to get an opening big enough for the cattle to be driven out; but without waiting for orders, the Indians in the rock gallery opened fire, and Joses and Bart caught the infection, the latter feeling a fierce kind of desire to avenge his friend the Beaver.

The rifle-shots acted like magic, sending the Apaches back to cover, where they began to return the fire briskly enough, though they did no more harm than to flatten their bullets, some of which dropped harmlessly into the rifle-pits, and were coolly appropriated by the Beaver's followers for melting down anew.

"Don't shoot, my lads," said Joses before long; "it is only wasting ammunition. They are too well under cover. Let them fire away as long as they like, and you can pick up the lead as soon as they are gone."

The interpreter told his fellows Joses' words, and they ceased firing without a moment's hesitation, and crouched there with their white friends, listening to the loud crack of the Apaches' rifles, and the almost simultaneous fat! of the bullet against the rock.

Not a man in the gallery was injured in the slightest degree, while, as soon as he had got over a sort of nervous feeling that was the result of being shot at without the excitement of being able to return the fire, Bart lay watching the actions of the Apaches, and the senseless way in which they kept on firing at the spots where they fancied that their enemies might be.

The cover they had made for was partly scrubby brush and partly masses of stone lying singly in the plain, and it was curious to watch an Indian making his attack. First the barrel of his rifle would be protruded over some rugged part of the stone, then very slowly a feather or two would appear, and then, if the spot was very closely watched, a narrow patch of brown forehead and a glancing eye could be seen. Then where the eye had appeared was shut out by the puff of white smoke that suddenly spirted into the air; and as it lifted, grew thin, and died away, Bart could see that the barrel of the rifle had gone, and its owner was no doubt lying flat down behind the piece of rock, which looked as if no Indian had been near it for years.

Five minutes later the muzzle of the rifle would slowly appear from quite a different part, and so low down that it was evident the Apache was lying almost upon his face. This time perhaps Bart would note that all at once a little patch of dry grass would appear, growing up as it were in a second, as the Indian balanced it upon the barrel of his piece, making it effectually screen his face, while it was thin and open enough for him to take aim at the place from whence he had seen flashes of fire come.

Bart saw a score of such tricks as this, and how a patch of sage-brush, that looked as if it would not hide a prairie dog began to send out flashes of fire and puffs of smoke, telling plainly enough that there was an Indian safely ensconced therein.

The Apaches' attitudes, too, excited his wonder, for they fired face downwards, lying on their sides or their backs, and always from places where there had been no enemy a minute before; while, when he was weary of watching these dismounted men at their ineffective toil, there were their friends out in the plain, who kept on swooping down after leaving their spears stuck in the earth a mile away. They would gallop to within easy range, and then turning their horses' heads, canter along parallel with the mountain, throw themselves sidewise on the flank of their horse farthest from the place attacked, take aim and fire beneath the animal's neck, their own bodies being completely hidden by the horse. It is almost needless to say that the shots they fired never did any harm, the position, the bad aim, and the motion of the horse being sufficient to send the bullets flying in the wildest way, either into the plain or high up somewhere on the face of the rock.

All at once this desultory, almost unresisted attack came to an end, as a fresh body of Indians cantered up; many of the latter leading horses, to which the attacking party from the canyon now made their way; and just at sundown the whole body galloped off, without so much as giving the beleaguered ones a farewell shot.

Bart watched them go off in excellent order right away out into the plain, the orange rays of the setting sun seeming to turn the half-nude figures into living bronze. Then the desert began to grow dim, the sky to darken, a few stars to peep out in the pale grey arch, and after a party had been deputed to keep watch, this intermission in the attack was seized upon as the time for making a hearty meal, the sentries not being forgotten.

"And now, Bart," said the Doctor, "I shall keep the gate myself to-night with half a dozen men. I should like you and Joses to watch in the gallery once more with the Beaver's men. These Apaches will be back again to-night to try and drive off the capital prize, if they could get it, of our cattle."

"Very good, sir," said Bart, cheerily; "I'll watch."

"So will I," growled Joses.

"I wish you had the Beaver to help you. Poor fellow!" said the Doctor, sadly; "his was a wonderful eye. The interpreter will become chief now, I suppose."

"Perhaps so, sir," said Bart; "but he says that the Beaver is not dead, but will come back."

"I would he spoke the truth," said the Doctor, sadly. "The poor fellow died that we might be saved, like a hero. But there, we have no time for repining. Let us get well into our places before dark. Joses, can you be a true prophet?" he added.

"What about, master?" said the frontiersman.

"And tell me when I may be allowed to mine my silver in peace?"

"No, master, I'm not prophet enough for that. If you killed off all these Injun, you might do it for a time, but 'fore long a fresh lot would have sprung up, and things would be as bad as ever. Seems to me finding silver's as bad as keeping cattle. Come along, Master Bart. I wish we had some of them salmon we speared."

"Never mind the salmon," said Bart, smiling; "we escaped with our lives;" and leading the way, they were soon ensconced in their places, watching the darkness creep over the plain like a thick veil, while the great clusters of stars came out and shone through the clear air till the sky was like frosted gold.

"Do you think the Apaches will come again to-night?" said Bart, after an hour's silence.

"Can't say, my lad. No, I should say. Yes, I should say," he whispered back; "and there they are."

As he spoke, he levelled his rifle at the first of two dusky figures that had appeared out in the plain, rising as it were out of the earth; but before he could fire, there was a hand laid upon his shoulder, and another raised the barrel of his piece.

"Treachery!" shouted Joses. "Bart, Master Bart, quick—help!"

There was a fierce struggle for a few moments, and then Joses loosened his hold and uttered an exclamation full of vexed impatience.

"It's all right, Master Bart," he cried. "Here, give us your hand, old Speak English," he added, clapping the interpreter on the shoulder, "it's of no use for us English to think of seeing like you, Injun."

"What does all this mean, Joses?" whispered Bart, excitedly, for it seemed marvellous that two Indians should be allowed to come up to their stronghold unmolested.

"Why, don't you see, my lad," cried Joses, "Beaver and his chap arn't dead after all. There they are down yonder; that's them."

Bart leaped up, and forgetful of the proximity of enemies, waved his cap and shouted: "Beaver, ahoy! hurrah!"

The two Indians responded with a cheery whoop, and ran up to the rocks, while Bart communicated the news to the Doctor and his fellow-guardians of the gate, where the lad pushed himself to the front, so as to be the first to welcome the chief back to their stronghold—a welcome the more warm after the belief that had been current since his non-return.

The Doctor's grasp was so friendly that the chief seemed almost moved, and nodding quietly in his dignified way, he seated himself in silence to partake of the refreshments pressed upon him by his friends.

"The Apache dogs must live longer and learn more before they can teach the Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth," said the interpreter scornfully to Joses.

"I'm very glad of it," said the latter, heartily. "I hate Injun, but somehow I don't hate the Beaver and you, old Speak English, half—no, not a quarter—so much as I do some of 'em. I say, how could you tell in the dark that it was the Beaver?"

"Speak English has eyes," said the Indian, accepting the nickname Joses gave him without a moment's hesitation. "Speak English uses his eyes. They see in the dark, like a puma or panther, as much as yours see in the sunshine."

"Well, I suppose they do," said Joses, with a sigh. "I used to think, too, that I could see pretty well."

They were back now in the gallery, keeping a steady watch out towards the plain, Bart being with them, and all were most anxiously waiting till the Beaver and his companion should come; for they were steadily endeavouring to make up for a very long fast to an extent that would astound an Englishman who saw a half-starved Indian eating for the first time. Joses and Bart made no scruple about expressing their wonder as to how it was that the Beaver had managed to escape; but the interpreter and his fellows hazarded no conjecture whatever. They took it for granted that their clever chief would be sure to outwit the Apaches, and so it had proved.

At last the Beaver came gliding softly into their midst, taking his place in the watch as if nothing whatever had happened; and in reply to Bart's eager inquiries, he first of all raised himself up and took a long and searching survey of the plain.

This done, he drew the interpreter's attention to something that had attracted his own notice, and seemed to ask his opinion. Then the Indian changed his position, and sheltering his eyes from the starlight, also took a long searching look, ending by subsiding into his place with a long, low ejaculation that ended like a sigh.

"That means it is all right," whispered Joses.

"Yes; all right," said the Beaver, turning his dark face toward them, and showing his white teeth, as if pleased at being able to comprehend their speech.

"Then now tell us, Beaver, how it was you managed to get away."

Without following the chief's halting delivery of his adventures in English, it is sufficient to say that he and his follower kept the Apaches back as they made attempt after attempt to ascend the chimney, shooting several, and so maddening the rest that they forgot their usual cautious methods of approach, and at last gathered together, evidently meaning to make a headlong rush.

This, the Beaver knew, meant that he and his man must be overpowered or shot down before they could reach the pathway of the natural fort, so cunning was brought to bear to give them time.

He knew that the Apaches would be sure to spend some few minutes in firing, partly to distract their enemies and partly to give them the cover of abundant smoke for their approach before they made their final rush; and taking off his feather head-gear, he secured it with a couple of stones so near the top of the rock which sheltered him and his companion that the eagle plumes could be seen by the Apaches as they gathered below.

His companion did the same, and as soon as this was done, they broke away from their hiding-place, and ran a few yards over the soft, sandy soil at the edge of the patch of forest, to some rocks, making deep impressions with their moccasins. Then, taking a few bounds along the hard rock, they found a suitable place, and there the Beaver bent down, his follower leaped upon his shoulders, and he walked quickly backward into the forest.

"And so made only one trail!" cried Bart, excitedly.

"And that one coming from the trees if the Apaches should find it," said Joses, grinning. "Well, you are a clever one, Beaver, and no mistake."

To put the chiefs words in plain English:

"We had only just got into cover when we heard the firing begin very sharply, and knowing that there was not a moment to lose, we backed slowly in among the trees till it grew stony, and our moccasins made no sign, and then my young man stepped down, and we crept from cover to cover, stopping to listen to the yelling and howling of the dogs, when they found only our feathers; and then we seemed to see them as they rushed off over the plain, meaning to catch us before we were in safety. But the dogs are like blind puppies. They have no sense. They could not find our trail. They never knew that we were behind them in the forest; and there we hid, making ourselves a strong place on the edge of the canyon, where we could wait until they had gone; and when at last they had gone, and all was safe, we came on, and we are here."

"They wouldn't have escaped you like that, would they, Beaver?" said Bart, after shaking hands once more warmly, and telling him how glad he was to see him back.

"Escaped me?" said the Beaver, scornfully; "there is not one of my young men who would have been trifled with like that."

This he said in the Indian tongue, and there was a chorus of assenting ejaculations.

"But the Apaches are blind dogs, and children," he went on, speaking with bitter contempt. "They fight because they are so many that one encourages the other, but they are not brave, and they are not warriors. The young men of the Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth are all warriors, and laugh at the Apaches, for it takes fifty of them to fight one of my braves."

He held up his hand to command silence after this, and then pointed out into the plain.

"Can you see anything, Joses?" whispered Bart.

"Not a sign of anything but dry buffler grass and sage-brush. No; it's of no use, Master Bart, I've only got four-mile eyes, and these Injun have got ten-mile eyes. Natur's made 'em so, and it's of no use to fight again it. 'Tis their natur to, and it arn't our natur to, so all we can do is to use good medicine."

"Why, you don't think that physic would do our eyes any good, do you, Joses?" whispered Bart.

"Physic, no! I said medicine," chuckled Joses.

"Well, what's the difference?" replied Bart.

"Difference enough. I meant Injun's medicine, as they call it. Didn't the Beaver say that the master's glass was all good medicine? He thought it was a sort of conjuring trick like their medicine-men do when they are making rain come, or are driving out spirits, as they call it. No; we can't help our eyes being queer, my lad, but we can use medicine spy-glasses, and see farther than the Injun. Hold your tongue; he's making signs."

For the Beaver had held up his hand again to command silence. Then he drew Bart towards him, and pointed outwards.

"Apache dogs," he whispered. "Young chief Bart, see?"

"No," replied the lad, after gazing intently for some time; and then, without a word, he glided off along the narrow, rocky, well-sheltered path, and made his way to the Doctor, who, with his men, was upon the qui vive.

"Well, Bart, what is it?" he said, eagerly.

"The Beaver can see Apaches on the plain."

"A night attack, eh?" said the Doctor. "Well, we shall be ready for them. Why have you come—to give us warning?"

"I came first for the glass," replied Bart. "I'll send you notice if they appear likely to attack, sir."

"Then I hope you will not have to send the notice, my lad," said the Doctor, "for I don't like fighting in the dark."

As he spoke he handed the glass, and Bart returned to the gallery.

"Are they still there?" he whispered.

"Yes; Apache dogs," was the reply. "Good medicine."

"They won't find it so," growled Joses, "if they come close up here, for my rifle has got to be hungry again. I'm 'bout tired of not being left peaceable and alone, and my rifle's like me—it means to bite."

As he crouched there muttering and thinking of the narrow escapes they had had, Bart carefully focussed the glass, no easy task in the deep gloom that surrounded them; and after several tries he saw something which made him utter an ejaculation full of wonder.

"What is it, my lad?" whispered Joses.

"The young chief sees the Apache dogs?" said the interpreter.

"Yes," exclaimed Bart; "the plain swarms with them."

"Then they're gathering for a big attack in the morning," said Joses. "Are they mounted?"

"Yes, all of them. I can just make them out crossing the plain."

"Well, their horses are only good to run away on," growled Joses; "they can't ride up this mountain. Let me have a look, my lad."

Bart handed the glass, and Joses took a long, eager look through, at the gathering of Apache warriors.

"I tell you what," he said, "we shall have to look out or they'll drive off every head of cattle and every leg of horse. They're as cunning as cunning, I don't care what any one says, and some of these days we shall open our eyes and find ourselves in a pretty mess."

"The Apache dogs shall not have the horses," said the Beaver fiercely.

"That's right; don't let 'em have them," cried Joses. "I don't want 'em to go; but here's one thing I should like answered—How are we going to find 'em in pasture with all these wild beasts hanging about, ready to swoop down and make a stampede of it, and drive them off?"

"The Beaver's young men will drive the horses and cattle out," said the Beaver, in tones of quiet confidence, "and bring them back again quite safe."

"If you can do that," said Joses, "perhaps we can hold out; but it don't seem likely that we shall get much salmon from down in the canyon yonder, which is a pity, for I've took to quite longing for a bit of that; and if the Apache don't take care, I shall have some yet."



CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

HARD PRESSED.

Day broke, and the sun rose, displaying a sight that disheartened many of the occupants of the rock; for far out on the plain, and well beyond the reach of rifle-bullets, there was troop after troop of Indian warriors riding gently here and there, as if to exercise their horses, but doubtless in pursuance of some settled plan.

The Doctor inspected them carefully through his glass, to try and estimate their numbers, and he quite came to the conclusion that they intended to invest the rock fortress, and if they could make no impression in one way, to try and starve out its occupants.

"We must make sure, once for all, Bart, that we have no weak points—no spot by which these Indian wretches can ascend and take us in the rear. Suppose you take the Beaver and two of his men with you, ascend the mountain, and make a careful inspection."

"But that would hardly be so satisfactory, sir, as if we went all round the base first to make sure that there is no way up from the plain."

"No, I know that," replied the Doctor; "but that is too dangerous a task."

"I'm beginning to like dangerous tasks now, sir," said Bart; "they are so exciting."

"Well, go then," said the Doctor; "but you must be mounted, or you will have no chance of retreat; and of course you will all keep a sharp look-out in case the Indians swoop down."

Bart promised, and went at once to the Beaver and Joses.

"I'm to come too, ain't I?" said the latter.

"No, you are to help keep guard," was the reply; and very sulkily Joses resumed his place, while the Beaver descended with Bart and four of his men to enter the rock stable and obtain their horses, the rest having to remain fasting while their companions were mounted and ridden out; the Indian ponies in particular resenting the indignity of being shut up again behind the stones by turning round and kicking vehemently.

The Apaches were so far distant that Bart was in hopes that they would not see the reconnaissance that was being made, as he rode out at the head of his little Indian party, after fully explaining to the Beaver that which they were to do.

His first step was to inspect the part of the mountain on the side that was nearest to the chimney, and the chasm into which they had descended to see the silver on their first coming.

This was the shortest portion by far, and it had the advantage of a good deal of cover in the shape of detached rocks, which sheltered them from the eyes of those upon the plain; but all the same, the Beaver posted two of his men as scouts in good places for observing the movements of the foe and giving warning should they approach; the plan being to take refuge beneath the gallery, where they would be covered by the rifles of Joses and their friends.

It was not at all a difficult task to satisfy the most exacting that ascent from the plain anywhere from the gallery to the precipice at the edge of the canyon was utterly impossible; and after carefully examining every crack and rift that ran upwards, the little party cantered back, said a few words to Joses, and then prepared for their more risky task, that of examining the mountain round by its northern and more open side, for there was no cover here, and their path would be more fully in view of any watchful eye upon the plain.

They drew up by the gateway, and had a few minutes' conversation with the Doctor, who said at parting:

"You can soon satisfy yourself, Bart; but give a good look up as you come back, in case you may have missed anything in going."

"I'll be careful," said Bart eagerly.

"Mind that scouts are left. I should leave at least three at different points on the road. They can give you warning at once. Then gallop back as if you were in a race. We shall be ready to cover you with our rifles if they come on. Now lose no time. Go!"

Bart touched Black Boy with his heels, and went off at a canter, but checked his speed instantly, so that he might the more easily gaze up at the mountain-side, while, thoroughly intent upon his task, the Beaver left scouts at intervals, each man backing close in to the rock, and sitting there like a statue watching the plain.

No Indians were in sight as far as Bart could see, and he rode slowly on, inspecting every opening in the face of the mountain, and so intent upon his task that he left the care of his person to the chief, whose watchful eyes were everywhere, now pointing out rifts in the rock, now searching the plain.

It was a much longer distance, and the importance of the task and its risk gave a piquancy to the ride that made the blood dance through Bart's veins. He could not help a little shudder running through him from time to time, though it was almost more of a thrill, and he could not have told, had he been asked, whether it was a thrill of dread or of pleasure. Perhaps there may have been more of the former, for he kept glancing over his right shoulder from time to time to see if a body of Indians might be sweeping at full gallop over the plain.

Half the distance was ridden over, and this gave confidence to the adventurer, who rode more steadily on, and spared no pains to make sure of there being no possibility of the Indians reaching the top from that side.

On went Bart, and three-fourths of the way were passed with nothing overhead but towering perpendicular rocks, impossible for anything but a fly to scale. The Indians had been left one after the other as scouting sentries, and at last, when no one was in company with the young adventurer but the Beaver, the edge of the canyon on this side was well in sight, and only a few hundred yards of the rock remained to be inspected.

"We will do this, at all events," said Bart, pressing his cob's sides with his heels; and he cantered on, for the face of the mountain was now so perpendicular and smooth that there was no difficulty in determining its safety at a glance.

Only about three hundred yards more and then there was the canyon, presenting a barrier of rock so steep, as well as so much higher, that there was nothing to fear on that side. Only these three hundred yards to examine, and the dangerous enterprise was almost as good as done, for every step taken by the horses then would be one nearer to safety. Bart had ridden on, leaving the Beaver, who had drawn rein, looking back at the plain, when suddenly there was a warning cry, and the lad looked over his shoulder to see the Beaver signalling to him.

"A minute won't make much difference," thought Bart excitedly, and instead of turning, he pressed his horse's flanks and galloped on to finish his task, rejoicing in the fact as he reached the canyon edge that he had seen every yard of the mountain-side, and that it was even more perpendicular than near the gateway.

"Now for back at a gallop," said Bart, who was thrilling with excitement; and turning his steed right on the very edge of the canyon, he prepared to start back, when, to his horror, he saw a party of dismounted Indians rise up as it were from the canyon about a hundred yards away, the place evidently where they had made their way down on the occasion of the attack during the salmon-fishing. With a fierce yell they made for the young horseman, but as Black Boy bounded forward they stopped short. A score of bullets came whizzing about Bart's ears, and as the reports of the pieces echoed from the face of the mountain, the cob reared right up and fell over backwards, Bart saving himself by a nimble spring on one side, and fortunately retaining his hold of the bridle as the cob scrambled up.

Just then, as the Indians came yelling on, and Bart in his confusion felt that he must either use rifle or knife, he could not tell which, there was a rush of hoofs, a quick check, and a hand gripped him by the collar.

For a moment he turned to defend himself, but as he did so he saw that it was a friend, and his hand closed upon the Indian pony's mane, for it was the Beaver come to his help; and spurring hard, he cantered off with Bart, half running, half lifted at every plunge as the pony made towards where their first friend was waiting rifle in hand.

"Let me try—draw him in," panted Bart, gripping his own pony's mane hard as it raced on close beside the Beaver's; and with a hand upon each, he gave a bound and a swing and landed in his saddle, just as the Apaches halted to fire another volley.

Black Boy did not rear up this time, and Bart now saw the reason of the last evolution, feeling thankful that the poor beast had not been more badly hit. His hurt was painful enough, no doubt, the rifle-ball having cut one of his ears right through, making it bleed profusely.

But there was no time to think of the pony's hurts while bullets were whistling about them from behind; and now Bart could see the cause of the Beaver's alarm signal, and bitterly regretted that he had not responded and turned at once, the few minutes he had spent in continuing his inspection having been a waste of time sufficient to place all of them in deadly peril.

For there far out on the plain was a very large body of the Apaches coming on at full gallop, having evidently espied them at last, and they were riding now so as to cut them off from their friends, and drive them back into the corner formed by the mountain and the canyon, a spot where escape would have been impossible even without the presence of a second hostile party of Indians to make assurance doubly sure.

"Ride! ride!" the Beaver said hoarsely; and in his excitement his English was wonderfully clear and good. "Don't mind the dogs behind; they cannot hit us as we go."

All the same, though, as Bart listened to their yells and the reports of their rifles, he shuddered, and thought of the consequences of one bullet taking effect on horse or man.

Every moment, though, as they rode on, the cries of the Apaches behind sounded more faint, but the danger in front grew more deadly.

They picked up first one Indian of their party, and then another, the brave fellows sitting motionless in their saddles like groups cut in bronze, waiting for their chief to join them, even though the great body of enemies was tearing down towards them over the plain. Then as the Beaver reached them, a guttural cry of satisfaction left their lips, and they galloped on behind their leader without so much as giving a look at the dismounted Indians who still came running on.

A tremendous race! Well it was that the little horses had been well fed and also well-rested for some time past, or they would never have been able to keep on at such a headlong speed, tearing up the earth at every bound, and spurning it behind them as they snorted and shook their great straggling manes, determined apparently to win in this race for life or death, and save their riders from the peril in which they were placed.

Another Indian of their scouts reached, and their party increased to five, while two more were ahead waiting patiently for them to come.

The wind whistled by their ears; the ponies seemed to have become part of them, and every nerve was now strained to the utmost; but Bart began to despair, the Apaches were getting to be so near. They were well-mounted, too, and it was such a distance yet before the gateway could be reached, where the first prospect of a few friendly shots could be expected to help them to escape from a horrible death. Mercy, Bart knew, there would certainly be none, and in spite of all their efforts, it seemed as if they must lose the race.

How far away the next sentry seemed! Try how they would, he seemed to be no nearer, and in very few minutes more Bart knew that the Indians would be right upon them.

Involuntarily he cocked his rifle and threw it to the left as if getting ready to fire, but the Beaver uttered an angry cry.

"No, no; ride, ride," he said; and Bart felt that he was right, for to fire at that vast body would have been madness. What good would it do him to bring down one or even a dozen among the hundreds coming on, all thirsting for their blood?

In response Bart gripped his pony more tightly, rising slightly in the stirrups, and the next moment they were passing their scout like a flash, and he had wheeled his pony and was after them.

One more scout to reach, and then a race of a few hundred yards, and rifles would begin to play upon their pursuers; but would they ever reach that next scout?

It seemed impossible; but the ponies tore on, and Bart began in his excitement to wonder what would be done if one should stumble and fall. Would the others stop and defend him, or would they gallop away to save their own lives? Then he asked himself what he would do if the Beaver were to go down, and he hoped that he would be brave enough to try and save so good a man.

Just then a rifle-shot rang out in their front. It was fired by the scout they were racing to join.

It was a long shot, but effective, for an Apache pony fell headlong down, and a couple more went over it, causing a slight diversion in their favour—so much, trifling as it was, that the Beaver and his party gained a few yards, and instead of galloping right down upon them, the Apaches began to edge off a little in the same direction as that in which the fugitives were rushing.

And still they tore on, while at last the Apaches edged off more and more, till they were racing on about a hundred yards to their left, afraid to close in lest their prey should get too far ahead; and they were all tearing on in this fashion when the last scout was reached, already in motion to retreat now and lose no time, setting spurs to his pony as the Beaver passed, and then came the final gallop to the gateway for life or death.

For now came the question—would the firing of their friends check the Apaches, or would they press on in deadly strife to the bitter end?

"Ride close up to the rock below Joses," shouted the Beaver; "then jump off on the right side of your horse, turn and fire;" and with these words, spoken in broken English, ringing in his ears, Bart felt his spirits rise, and uttering a cheer full of excitement, he rose in his stirrups and galloped on.

The endurance of the little horses was wonderful, but all the same the peril was of a terrible nature; for the ground which they were forced to take close in under the perpendicular mountain walls was strewn with blocks of stone, some of a large size, that had to be skirted, while those of a smaller size were leaped by the hardy little animals, and Bart felt that the slightest swerve or a fall meant death of the most horrible kind.

Twice over his cob hesitated at a monstrous piece of rock. And each time Bart nearly lost his seat; but he recovered it and raced on.

Faster and faster they swept along, the Indian followers of the Beaver urging their horses on by voice and action, while the yells of the Apaches acted like so many goads to the frightened beasts.

Would they hear them on the rocks? Would Joses be ready? Would the Doctor give their enemies a salutation? Would they never reach the gateway?

These and a dozen other such questions passed like lightning through Bart's brain in those moments of excitement; for the rocky gateway, that had seemed so near to the first scout when they set out that morning and cantered off, now appeared at an interminable distance, and as if it would never be reached; while the Apaches, as if dreading that their prey might escape, were now redoubling their efforts, as Bart could see when he glanced over his left shoulder.

But on the little band of fugitives swept, so close together that their horses almost touched; and, unless some unforeseen accident occurred—a slip, a stumble, or a fatal shot—they would soon be in comparative safety.

The Beaver saw this, and, forgetting his ordinary calm, he rose in his stirrups, half turned and shook his rifle at the great body of Apaches, yelling defiantly the while, and drawing a storm of vengeful cries from the pursuers that rose loud above the thunder of the horses' hoofs.

Another two hundred yards, and the gateway would be reached, but it seemed as if that short distance would never be passed; while now the Apaches, taking advantage of the fact that their prey was compelled to swerve to the left, began to close in, bringing themselves in such close proximity that Bart could see the fierce, vindictive faces, the flashing eyes, and eager clutching hands, ready to torture them should they not escape.

Another fierce race for the last hundred yards, with the Apaches closing in more and more, and the fate of the fugitives seemed sealed, when, just as the enemy gave a fierce yell of triumph, rising in their stirrups to lash their panting little steeds into an accelerated pace, the rock suddenly seemed to flash, and a sharp sputtering fire to dart from the zigzag path. Some of the pursuing horses and their riders fell, others leaped or stumbled over them; and as Bart and his companions drew rein close in beneath the gallery, forming a breastwork of their blown horses, and began firing with such steadiness as their excitement would allow, a regular volley flashed from above their heads, and Joses and his companions followed it up with a triumphant shout.

The effect was marvellous,—the great body of Apaches turning as upon a pivot, and sweeping off at full gallop over the plain, leaving their dead and wounded behind, and pursued by many a deadly shot.

This was the result of their surprise, however; for before they had gone far, they turned and charged down again, yelling furiously.

"Don't fire till they're close in, Master Bart," Joses shouted from above; "they've come back for their wounded. Give 'em some more to take."

Joses was right, for the charge was not pushed home, the savages galloping only sufficiently near to come to the help of their friends; and doubtless they would have carried off their dead, but they encountered so fierce a fire from the rock that they were glad to retreat, leaving several of their number motionless upon the plain.

Then they rode on right away, and Bart threw himself down, completely overcome, to lie there panting and exhausted, till the Doctor and Joses came and led him up, the Beaver and his followers staying behind to safely enclose the cavern stable with stones, after they had placed their own ponies and Black Boy within.



CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

HOW JOSES FED THE CATTLE.

The Apaches seemed to have had so severe a lesson that they kept right away in the plain for the rest of the day; and as it appeared to be safe, the Indians went out with the Beaver to hide the ghastly relics of the attack, returning afterwards to the Doctor to sit in council upon a very important point, and that was what they were to do about the cattle and horses.

This was a terrible question; for while the occupants of the rock fortress could very well manage to hold out for a considerable time if they were beleaguered, having an ample store of meal and dried meat, with an abundant supply of water, the horses and cattle must have food, and to have driven them out to the lake grazing-grounds meant to a certainty that either there must be a severe battle to save them or the Apaches would sweep them off.

"The Beaver and his men will watch and fight for the cattle," said the chief, quietly.

"I know that, my brave fellow; but if they were yours, would you let them go out to graze?" said the Doctor.