"I don't see as I'm likely to get anything to eat," he muttered, as he sat down on the blanket, and looked upon the glittering scene. "I ain't so very hungry, but I would like a good drink of water."

The firelight shone upon the small stream which ran through the middle of the valley; and, as it was so near at hand, he thought there would be no harm in walking to it, and helping himself to a refreshing draught. He had walked but a few steps, however, when he became aware that some one was following him. A careless glance over his shoulder showed that it was Lone Wolf. The lad concluded at once that he suspected an attempt at escape, and he thought he might do himself some good by a faithful return to his former position after he had helped himself to a drink, without appearing to notice that he was watched. This was the more easy of accomplishment, as the Apache moved off to one side, as if his desire was to conceal his real purpose. Accordingly, Ned walked quietly forward until he reached the stream, where he knelt down and took one long, refreshing drink, which seemed to give him new life and strength. Then, rising to his feet, he started back to the camp fire. As he did so, he found himself face to face with Lone Wolf.

"What do you mean?" demanded the latter, gruffly.

"I was thirsty and went to get a drink. I thought I would not bother you."

"When you try to run away, then you will die!"

"What's the use of trying to run off, when there isn't any show?" asked the young prisoner, with a laugh, an assumption of jollity which was far from genuine.



CHAPTER XI.

SURROUNDED BY DANGER.

Lone Wolf no doubt meant to warn Ned against any attempt at escape; for, where the surveillance was relaxed, as it would probably be now and then in his case, he was certain to see many occasions when he would be tempted to give them the slip.

On the way to this place, Corporal Hugg had given the lad an insight into the ways of the redmen, and the boy began to use his knowledge. The perilous position in which he was placed helped to sharpen his wits, for he began to see things in their true light. The chief had expressed his hatred of Colonel Chadmund in too vigorous language to be mistaken; and Ned now believed that in sparing his life the Indian had been actuated by some other motive than mercy because of his age.

"He means to strike father through me," he concluded, as he sat upon the blanket in deep thought. "He will kill me in some way more horrible than the rest, and he is waiting until he has a good chance to do it, so that father will be sure and know it. He thinks he has scared me out of trying to get away, but the next chance I get I'll do it. I believe I can dodge him. But I'll have to shut his eye up, so as to have the better show."

At this juncture Lone Wolf came toward him, bearing in his hand a large bone, rather bountifully covered with meat, which he was gnawing as he walked, grasping either end of it with his hand, and fixing his black eyes upon the lad as he advanced.

"Do you want something to eat?"

"I should think I did," replied Ned, with a laugh which he forced so well that no one would have suspected its sincerity. "I'm about half starved to death, and was afraid I was not going to get any supper at all!"

"Take that, and go to sleep."

The large bone was given a flirt by the huge warrior, and fell directly into his lap. It was not very pleasant to take it second-hand, but a boy in his situation could not be very fastidious, and, thanking the chief for his princely liberality, Ned fell to and gnawed away like a famished dog. It struck him as curious that none of the warriors appeared to note his presence, but he knew better than to believe that such apparent blindness was real. He was as securely within their power as if bound hand and foot.

"He told me to go to sleep," he said, as he stretched out upon his blanket; "I guess I'll try and do it. I don't see any use of sitting up and watching such a set of wretches as they are. I'd rather have a pack of wolves about me than such as they."

The night was too mild to require the blanket wrapped over him; besides which the warmth from the camp fire was very perceptible; so he lay upon his back looking up at the stars and endeavoring to shut out from his thoughts the hateful beings gathered around, and whose grunting voices and loud exclamations were never quiet, but continued so long that they acquired a certain monotony, like the rattle and hum of the mill, which lulls the miller to sleep.

"It's strange," he murmured, as his imaginings became as wayward as a boy's will. "Father is off yonder, I don't know how many hundred miles, and mother is just the opposite way in Santa Fe, and here I am about half way between them. We were never so scattered in all the world before. I wonder what father will do when he finds out about Lone Wolf? The chief has put his blanket of greenbacks away somewhere, and I guess he knows how to take care of them. I declare, but that was a big haul—one hundred thousand dollars at a lick! I should think Lone Wolf might afford to retire now on what he has made. But the poor men," added Ned, with that sudden throb of the heart which always came when lie recalled the fearful attack and massacre in Devil's Pass. "Not one of them left alive! Oh, I wish I could forget it all! but I never, never can. The Indians have done such things many a time before, but I never saw them. It'll kill me if I don't keep it out of my thoughts."

There seemed to be less moon that night than on the previous evening, and as the boy lay looking upward, he could see a number of stars twinkling in the sky. He reflected that beyond them was One who could not forget his pitiful condition, who could bring him out of all his troubles, and who was the only Being unto whom he could go in this dark hour. Ned prayed to Him, as he had been taught to pray at his mother's knee, and, recalling the words which he had so often heard from her dear lips, he believed that God could not forsake him, but that all would come out right. He had lain thus perhaps an hour, when he turned upon his side for the greater comfort of position. As he did so, he was reminded of Devil's Pass by a sharp twinge in his side. It was sharp enough to make him gasp with pain; also to put an idea into his head.

Having fully made up his mind to attempt to get away from the Apaches at the very first opportunity which he could seize, it struck him that he might help himself by engaging in a piece of deception, justifiable under the circumstances. The bruise which he had received was not severe enough to interfere with his walking, but Lone Wolf might as well believe that it did. If he thought his prisoner was too lame to do much in the way of locomotion, his watchfulness would be certain to become quite lax, all of which would be a great point in favor of the one mainly concerned.

"At any rate, I'll try it on," he said, as he shut his eyes.

The excessive fatigue of the lad caused him to drop off into a sound slumber—a slumber filled with sweet dreams of home, father and mother and all that was pleasant. But it was interrupted in the rudest possible way.

The night was nearly gone, when a terrific uproar aroused him as suddenly as if a cup of cold water had been dashed in his face. Looking around, he saw two warriors, within six feet of him, engaged in a savage dispute. From some source, a number of the Apaches had obtained a supply of fire-water, and several desperate fights had already taken place. A swarthy redskin, daubed with paint and intoxicated to that degree which brought to the surface all the deviltry in his nature, was striving, with knife in hand, to get at the sleeping boy, while another, in about the same condition, was disputing his right to do this, and claiming that it was peculiarly his own province to slay the young prisoner. Both agreed that death should be awarded, and each claimed that justice demanded that he alone should do the righteous deed. This difference of opinion had already produced high words, the warriors pulling and shoving each other, and threatening each instant to go at each other with their knives.

Ned could not understand the words spoken, but the actions of the redskins needed no interpretation. The affrighted boy sprang to his feet, and, forgetful of the lameness which he had arranged, ran back several yards to a group of redskins who were squatted upon the ground, smoking.

At this instant, the two disputants, wearied with hurling words at each other, went in with their knives, and the conflict became of the most desperate and sanguinary nature.

"Where is Lone Wolf?" was the question he asked, as he paused by the group of smokers and looked inquiringly at them.

But if any of them understood the words uttered, they did not choose to give the information sought, and smoked away as placidly as if seated around their own firesides at home.

Just beyond were two other warriors engaged in conversation, and Ned was sure he had heard one of them speak in broken English during the earlier part of the evening. Hoping to gain the knowledge he desired, he went to him.

"Where is Lone Wolf, the chief?"

"He go way—much time ago—off in the mountains."

"When will he come back?"

The redskin shook his head to signify that he did not know; but added, the next minute:

"Be back to-morrer—mebbe—don't know—can't say."

This rather indefinite information was all that could be obtained by the lad, who was in a shiver of terror; for he believed now that his life was not safe for a single moment.



CHAPTER XII.

"THE HOUR HAS COME."

Ned Chadmund was too terrified to think of further sleep, nor did he dare to return to where he had been lying upon the blanket when aroused in such a startling manner. As he turned his horrified gaze in that direction, he saw the two combatants clutching and striking each other upon the ground, their blows growing feebler as their strength rapidly departed. The most alarming thing about this revolting contest was the fact that it did not attract the interest of a single spectator beyond the little fellow. There were plenty of Indians around, some of whom were within a dozen feet, and yet they paid no more attention to it than if the two were quietly smoking their pipes.

This showed, as a matter of course, the indifference of the others as to what befell the defenseless prisoner. The next Indian who advanced upon him with drawn knife would not be so likely to find himself disputed by another, anxious to perform the same job. It seemed certain that no one would interfere in the interests of the prisoner himself.

The latter stood debating what he should do, if, indeed, he could do anything at all. He turned his head and looked back in the gloom, which appeared so inviting that he was tempted to turn and make a dash for freedom. If he could only secure a start of a hundred yards, it seemed to him that he might escape. That would give him a chance to steal away and hide until he could renew his flight, with a prospect of eluding them altogether. He glanced at the darkness and then again at the Apaches. Not a single one of them, so far as he could see, showed any consciousness of his presence, and none were between him and the gloom in which he meant to take shelter.

His heart throbbed with excitement as he stood debating the question, and he hurriedly concluded to make the attempt. But on the eve of starting, his straining vision detected the faintest shadowy outline of a figure, which silently receded in the gloom as he looked toward it. Ned understood on the instant what this meant. It was Lone Wolf who was waiting to receive him, whenever he should choose to make his attempt to get away.

The whole trick flashed upon him at once. Lone Wolf, with a view of thoroughly testing the lad, had purposely thrown this opportunity in his way, and was waiting beyond in the gloom to receive him with open arms. Poor Ned's heart sank as he realized more vividly than ever that he was as much a prisoner as if immured within the walls of Sing Sing. Still, he affected not to notice the presence of the sentinel, but walked back toward the camp with that affectation of indifference which he had used on more than one occasion before. He recollected this time to put on the limp—his lameness being of such a decided character that there could be no mistaking it by any one who happened to look in that direction.

"Never mind, I'll get the chance yet," he muttered, putting himself upon his mettle. "I'll play lame till they think there is no need of watching me at all, and then, before they know it, I'll be off."

The knowledge that Lone Wolf was so near at hand gave him enough courage to go back to where the blanket lay, and seat himself upon it. He had sat thus but a few minutes, when he noticed that it was growing light in the East. The night was gone and day was breaking.

"I'm glad of it, for I'm tired of this place," he exclaimed. "I'll never get any chance to do anything for myself here."

Before it was fairly light, the Apaches began their preparations for leaving the scene of their encampment. Their mustangs were picketed at some distance up the stream, under charge of a couple of sentinels, where they had not been disturbed during the entire night.

"I wonder if they'll give me a horse?" was the next thought of Ned, as he watched these preparations.

In a few minutes all were mounted upon their animals, which seemed in a splendid condition. Among them were three that had belonged to the cavalry, and which were easily identified by means of the saddles, bridles and accoutrements. Ned hoped that one of these would be placed at his disposal, and he looked around for the chief only to find him at his elbow.

"You walk or ride?" he asked, his painted countenance as cold and hard as steel.

"That depends upon you," replied Ned, "but I do hope you will let me ride upon somebody's horse for this is mighty rough, I can tell you," and he emphasized his complaint by limping, apparently with great pain, for a few steps. The chief looked at him very sharply for a few seconds, and then showed that he believed him, if indeed, he held any doubt at all. He motioned to one of the warriors who was leading a captive horse, which was brought immediately to the spot. The stirrups were shortened, so as to be in place for the boy's feet when he was helped into the saddle.

"Oh! my leg! my leg!" he screamed, with an expression of intense agony, when, actually, he felt not a particle of pain; "it seems to me, you would rather hurt a chap than not."

No attention was paid to his complaint, and a minute later the whole cavalcade was in motion.

The boy was a skillful horseman, having been taught to ride from the time he could walk, and he found himself astride of one of the best steeds that had belonged to the cavalry, although he could not identify it. As he looked about him and examined the saddle, he caught sight of the handle of a revolver in the holster, jammed down in such a way that it had escaped the notice of their captors.

"That's to be mine," he whispered to himself, not a little pleased at the discovery he had made.

He knew if this caught the eye of Lone Wolf or any of his warriors they would not permit him to retain it, and he was so fearful that they would see it that he began maneuvering with a view of getting it into his possession. No one is more skillful at this sort of business than a boy about his age. Ned groaned, and twisted forward and backward, as if to seek relief, and when he finally secured a little more comfort and resumed his upright position the revolver was safely hid beneath his waistcoat, he having placed it there without attracting the eye of any one. The little fellow felt braver on the instant. He suspected that if he encountered Lone Wolf alone, and the chieftain dared to bar his passage, he could use the revolver upon him with the same coolness that Corporal Hugg would have done had he been alive.

"None of them suspect that I've got such a thing about me, and that gives me the better chance," was his very sensible conclusion, as he endeavored to put on an expression of blissful serenity.

When the sun was fairly up, the fifty Apache warriors were galloping in a direct line toward the south, Lone Wolf at their head, and Ned Chadmund riding at his side. The lad had made several inquiries of his leader, but the latter repelled him so savagely that he wisely held his peace. He supposed the Indians were going southward toward their village. He remembered hearing his father speak of Lone Wolf as dwelling pretty well to the southward, and that he had pronounced him to be one of the most dangerous leaders among the fierce tribes of the Southwest.

The Apaches were now in a mountainous region, following a sort of trail that was generally wide enough to permit a dozen to ride abreast if they wished to do so. Occasionally it was rough and precipitous, winding in and out, and now and then difficult to travel; but the wiry little mustangs went along as unhesitatingly as mountain goats. Although they were among the mountains, at times the air was oppressively hot, not a particle of breeze reaching them.

It was little past noon when the party drew rein in a place very similar to that wherein they encamped the night before. As the mustangs came to a halt, their riders leaped to the ground, and, turning them over to the care of a half dozen of their number, they refreshed themselves at a stream running near at hand, the water of which was clear and cold, and equally inviting to man and beast. Ned climbed down from his horse, apparently with great difficulty and pain.

"May I go and get a drink?" he asked of Lone Wolf.

"Go," was the savage reply; "am I a dog to help you?"

"No; you're a dog without helping me," muttered the lad as he limped away toward the wood, seeking a point a short distance below where the others were helping themselves.

It took but a minute to reach a spot where for the time he was beyond observation.

"The hour has come to make a stroke for freedom!" he exclaimed, suiting the action to the word.



CHAPTER XIII.

THE FLIGHT.

Ned had enough sense not to undertake to run away from the Apaches until there was a reasonably good chance of succeeding. He had played the game of lameness so well that he had secured considerable liberty thereby; and when, therefore, he went limping beyond the further limit of the Indians, no one supposed he had any other purpose in view than to obtain a better place in which to help himself to water. The trees among which he entered were almost without undergrowth, and, fortunately, were in exactly the opposite direction from where the mustangs were grazing. This left the way entirely open for him to do his utmost in the way of his dash for freedom. It may seem to have been unfortunate in the one thing, that it caused the lad to go away without his horse; but he would have left the latter had he been given his chance, for he believed that while the trail of the animal could be followed without trouble, and might secure his being run to the ground in the end, yet he could readily find the means of hiding his own footsteps from the most skillful of the Apaches.

It is hardly necessary to say that the instant he found himself beyond the immediate sight of his captors, his lameness disappeared as if by magic, and he dashed down the stream with all the speed at his command. After running nearly two hundred yards he suddenly paused and listened. Nothing could be heard but his own hurried breathing and throbbing heart.

"They haven't found out anything about me yet," was his hurried exclamation, as he started off again, continually ejaculating a prayer that he might succeed, for he needed no one to tell him that it was really a matter of life and death; for, if Lone Wolf should place hands upon him again, he would never forgive the attempt.

A hundred yards further in this headlong fashion, and all at once he found himself at the termination of the wood, which had been such an advantage to him thus far. On the right and left, over the high, precipitous mountains back of him, was the small wood, on the other border of which was the Apache camp. The gorge or valley, in the center of which he found himself standing, wound in and out among the mountains before him,—a Devil's Pass on a smaller scale,—so sinuous in its course that he could trace it only a short distance ahead with the eye. Directly at his side flowed a mountain stream, varying from a dozen to twenty feet in width, so clear that in every place he could see distinctly the bottom. The current was quite swift, and in some places it dashed and foamed over the rocks almost like a cascade.

Ned dared not hesitate, but, pausing only an instant to catch breath, he dashed away again until he reached the curve in the ravine, beyond which he would be hid from view of the encampment. The moment this was reached he paused long enough to cast back a searching glance. But all looked as calm and peaceful as if no human being had ever entered the ravine.

"They haven't found it out yet! They haven't found it out yet!" he exclaimed, his heart rising with hope. "That was a pretty smart thing in me to pretend to be lame, and if it hadn't been for that I wouldn't have got half the start."

Passing the turn in the ravine, he felt that it would not do to wait any longer without some effort to hide his trail. There was but one feasible way of accomplishing this, and that was by entering the stream and keeping along it far enough to throw the wolves off the scent. It was not a very pleasant task to enter the water and move along, where, at any moment, he was liable to drop down over his head; but he did not dare to stand upon trifles, and in he went. By keeping close to the shore, he managed to avoid any such unpleasant ducking, while at the same time he effectually hid his footsteps from the eyes of the keenest-sighted Indian. A short distance ahead he found the trees were growing fully as thickly as in the grove which he had left but a short time before, and he made all haste thither, continually glancing back, dreading least he should catch sight of some of the Apaches on the hunt for him.

Imagine his consternation, when, on the very margin of the wood, he looked back and saw the forms of two Indians only a short distance away! They were mounted upon their mustangs and riding at a walk almost in a direct line toward him, and, as he stared at them he was sure that their slow pace was due to their careful scrutiny of the trail which he was satisfied he must have left.

"They have found me out," he gasped, as he turned and hurried down stream again.

Ned was too frightened to reflect that their actions were such as to indicate that they were hunters, who were out merely for game, and there is no telling how far he would have kept up his flight in the stream, had he not been checked by what he believed to be a providential interference in his behalf.

The water was broad, moderately deep, and quite clear; but the overhanging trees threw out so much shade that the bottom was invisible, so that, scrutinize as much as they chose, the redskins could not detect the slightest trace of his footprints upon the bed of the stream. The only difficulty that remained was to leave the water in such a way that his pursuers should be baffled in any attempt to discover the point. This was an exceedingly difficult question to solve, and while he was searching for some suitable place, and growing terribly frightened lest his two foes should pounce down upon him, he noticed a large tree that projected over the water. The foliage was dense and the tree seemed to be hollow. Besides this, one of the limbs hung so low that, by making an upward spring, he was able to catch it with both hands. He then drew himself upward, and carefully crawled along until he reached the trunk. To his surprise and delight, he found it the very concealment he needed above all others. The trunk was large and hollow, and on the upper side was an aperture, probably caused by the rotting away of a limb, large enough to permit the passage of his body.

After peering for a few seconds into the impenetrable darkness, Ned shoved his feet through, and carefully followed with his body. He cautiously shoved himself along, until his head was below the level of the opening, when he paused, believing that he was concealed in the best manner possible. The lad had absolutely left no trace behind him; the searching Apaches were without any means of discovering what he had done, and all he had to do was to remain where he was until the hunt was over. The tree, slanting out over the water, made his posture a half reclining one, and as comfortable as it is possible to imagine. His limbs were somewhat chilled by the wetting they had received, but that troubled him very little, his whole thoughts, naturally, being centered upon the one of getting away from the Apaches. It seemed to him that his senses were preternaturally sharpened, and the rustling of a fallen leaf startled him into the belief that one of the redskins was crawling out upon the trunk; but a full half hour passed without presenting anything of a tangible nature, and hope became very strong in his breast again.

"I wonder whether those horsemen were hunting for me?" he muttered, as he became more deliberate in his speculations. "I was sure a little while ago that they were, but it may be that I was mistaken. I don't think they would come on their mustangs if they wanted to find me, for they couldn't make much use of them in following me to a place like this."

Whether or not these two men were his pursuers mattered very little; for there could be no doubt that his absence had been noticed or that the most skillful trailers were in pursuit. They could not fail to learn that he had taken to the stream and would naturally hunt along the shore to discover where he had left it. This would be likely to bring them very close to where he was hidden, and he trembled as he reflected upon the possible, if not probable, result.

The sun was going down in the west; the shadows in the wood gradually deepened; in his reclining position, Ned Chadmund found a heavy drowsiness stealing over him. The afternoon was no more than half gone when his eyes closed in a refreshing sleep, which continued several hours, and might have lasted still longer had it not been broken. It was far into the night when the sleeping lad suddenly opened his eyes without understanding the cause of his doing so. Something had aroused him, but he could not divine what it was. His posture had become somewhat cramped from his long continuance in it and he shifted about so as to rest upon the other side. As he did so, he became aware that some one or something else was near him. The slightest possible rustling at the base of the trunk directed his attention there, but there was too much intervening shrubbery for him to detect anything at all. Everything in that direction was shrouded in the densest gloom. The moon was directly overhead, and shining so that he was able to see for some little distance when he turned his glance from the trunk. Remembering his revolver, the boy reached down and drew it from within his waistcoat, where he had concealed it.

"If anybody wants to run against that, let him do so," he said to himself. "It has five good charges which I will use up before they shall lay hands upon me or Lone Wolf shall call me his prisoner again."

It seemed to him that, in case of discovery, his position might place him at a great disadvantage, so he carefully drew his head and shoulders out of the trunk, so as to leave his arms free to use. This was scarcely done when he caught the same sound below him, repeated so distinctly that he knew on the instant what it meant. It was a scratching, rattling of bark, such as would be made by the claws of an animal in picking its way along, and as he strained his eyes through the gloom, he saw very faintly the outlines of some wild animal approaching him, a low, threatening growl at the same time establishing the identity of the bear beyond question.

Ned was about to give him the contents of one barrel, when he was restrained by the recollection that his ammunition was exceedingly precious and that the report of the pistol was likely to bring some one whom he dreaded more than the fiercest wild beasts of the forest. So he decided to try milder means at first. Accordingly, the endangered lad tried to see whether the animal could not be frightened away without really hurting him. Breaking off a piece of bark, he flung it in his face, giving utterance, at the same time, to a growl as savage as that of the beast himself. The latter instantly paused, as if puzzled to understand what it meant, but he did not retreat. He merely stood his ground and growled back again. Encouraged even by this dubious success, Ned threw more bark, made more noise, and flung his arms so wildly that he came very near throwing his revolver out of his grasp into the creek.

But it would not work. The bear was not born in the woods to be frightened by any such trifles, and, halting for scarcely twenty seconds, he advanced with the calm deliberation of a brute bent upon clearing up the mystery without any unnecessary delay. Instead of giving him the contents of one of the chambers of the revolver, the young hunter drew back within the hollow of the tree, as a turtle is seen to retreat within his shell when affrighted at the approach of some enemy. It was a tight squeeze, but he insinuated himself along the open space until quite sure that he was beyond the reach of the monster. There he found he had barely room to use his arms, but, pointing his weapon toward the opening, he awaited the action of bruin.

There was sufficient moonlight to perceive the opening, but he had scarcely time to glance at it when it was darkened by the bear, which thrust its head in with a thunderous growl that made the lad shiver from head to foot. Certain that it would not do to wait any longer, and believing that he meant to force his entire body through, the sorely frightened Ned discharged one barrel squarely in the face of the bear.

This settled matters. The latter had his snout and enough of his head shoved into the opening to receive a bad wound from the weapon, discharged within a foot or two of his face. He gave a sort of snarling howl, and jerked out his feet so suddenly that he must have injured himself still more by doing so, and, with a relief that can hardly be understood, Ned heard him clawing hastily along the trunk until he reached the land, when he scampered away into the woods, and nothing more was seen of him.

"If I had plenty of ammunition, I would not begrudge that shot," muttered Ned, as he carefully worked his way along the hollow again. "But that leaves me only four shots, and there's no telling how soon I'll have to use the rest."

He found, upon reaching the opening again, that the night was past and the day was breaking. He had obtained a good night's rest, but he was anxious to get ahead.

"I wonder where Lone Wolf is?" he thought, hesitating whether he had better descend from his hiding place or not. "It is all of twelve hours since I ran away and they must have done a good deal of hunting. Some of them have passed close to where I am, and they must be lurking about this very minute."

It was this uncertainty which caused the lad to wait some little time longer before venturing forth. He had been so fortunate up to this time that he could not afford to throw the chances away. When he found that the sun was far above the treetops, however, he began to grow impatient, and finally came to the conclusion that he was losing valuable time. So he began crawling carefully out, with the idea of resuming his flight homeward.

Ned was not yet fairly out from the tree, when he paused, for his ear detected something alarming. It was the soft splash of water, such as is made by a person who is carefully wading along, and it sounded fearfully near to where he was.

He assumed at once, because of the peculiar sound, that it must be caused by some one who was hunting for him, and no one could be hunting for him except some of the Apaches from whom he fled. If any doubt remained in his mind, it was removed a moment later, when he heard a whistle from the same quarter whence came the sound of the wading. The signal was instantly responded to in the same manner by some one upon shore.

"They're Indians," he said. "They know that I must be somewhere in this neighborhood and they've made up their minds to search until they find me."

For two or three minutes all was as still as the tomb. It seemed as if the redskins were listening, in the hope of learning something of the fugitive through their sense of hearing when their eyes had failed them so long. If such were the case, they were disappointed, for the boy crouching in the gnarled tree would have suspended his very breathing, had it been in his power to do so, lest he should betray himself.

When the splashing noise was heard again, it sounded almost beneath him, and, yielding to a most dangerous curiosity, which, however, he could not restrain, he reached one hand into the foliage, drew it aside and looked down.

Not more than twenty feet distant he saw the figure of Lone Wolf, the Apache chief!

He stood in the water up to his knees, and, at the moment the fugitive looked, had passed a short distance beyond the tree, so that his back only was visible. Had it been a few minutes sooner, the warrior would have assuredly seen the white, scared face that peered upon him from among the leaves. But, as it was, he was all unconscious of the fact that he was so near the prize for which he and several of his best warriors had been searching for hours.

Two of them had paused beneath the tree and carefully examined the branches without discerning the hiding place, and they were now moving forward again, carefully examining everything on each side of the stream where it seemed possible for a cat, even, to conceal itself. Lone Wolf would have given his right arm, almost, rather than have his prisoner elude him. He had been completely deceived by that little artifice of lameness, and it was not until a full half hour after Ned's disappearance that he began to suspect that something was amiss. The trail was taken up at once and followed without trouble to where it entered the water. Here the real task began, for the hardness of the bed of the creek prevented them from tracing the footsteps where the clearness of the current would have enabled them to do so, had the circumstances been otherwise.

Consequently, the only thing possible for them to do was to find the place where he had taken to the land again. For this they hunted until dark and renewed the work again in the morning. But as Ned had not yet placed his foot upon dry land, the enterprise up to that moment was not a success.



CHAPTER XIV.

PURSUED.

Ned Chadmund's only fear was that the chief would hear the throbbing of his heart. He dared not draw his head into the tree, fearing that the action would attract the notice of the Apache; so he remained as motionless as the trunk of the tree itself, waiting for the danger to pass. Finally, the Indian was heard moving forward again, and the cramped and aching fugitive began to breathe more freely. He could detect that soft rippling through the water, such as is made by an angler who is hunting some choice place in the brook, and who examines every foot of the water which he passes. At last it was beyond hearing, and all was still again; but our young hero, impatient and anxious as he was to get forward, dared not leave his concealment while so many of his enemies were in the immediate neighborhood. He was confident that if he attempted flight and escaped running against some of these dusky wretches, they would speedily detect his trail and run him to the ground. He concluded to remain where he was until dark, when he would make another start, confident that by traveling all night, and taking advantage of all the means that came in his way, he could place a goodly distance between himself and the perilous neighborhood.

Nothing more was seen or heard of the Apaches during these long waiting hours, unless the distant report of a gun could be construed as their work, and the summer day gradually wore away. By this time the condition of the boy was truly pitiable. He was thirsty and nearly famished, feverish from his long abstinence. Yet with water within a few feet of him he refrained, for the reason that he was fearful of imperiling his safety.

"I'll wait till it is nearly dark," he said, as he looked down at the cool water flowing beneath; "for this is the only chance I shall ever have of giving them the slip."

The time he had fixed upon to venture forth had not yet arrived when he observed a large tree floating along below him. It had probably become displaced at some point up the stream, and would drift along until it should again catch some obstruction, and remain moored for an indefinite time. Yielding to a sudden inspiration, Ned crept hastily out of his concealment, and dropped lightly upon the trunk, which was heavy and buoyant enough to bear his weight without sinking below the surface.

The course of the stream was such that this proceeding carried him back directly over the ground that he had passed, and, in case the Apaches were in camp, would take him near it. But there was real woodcraft in this act, imprudent as it seemed; for nothing could be conceived, which, if successful, would more effectually throw the Indians off his trail. Knowing that he had gone northward, what inducement could there be for looking toward the south for him? The next thing after getting upon his raft was to stoop over and get a drink from the stream, which, having its source up among the mountains, was cold, clear, and pure.

Oh! the refreshing draught! None but those whose frames have been consumed with flaming fever can appreciate the delicious nectar, the invigorating, permeating life that lay in that wonderful fluid, which is without smell, taste or color, and to which no other liquid can be compared.

"Oh dear!" groaned the lad, as he raised his head. "Another drink like that and there'll be nothing left in the creek."

But thirst satisfied left him with such a tormenting sense of hunger that the question of something to eat speedily became paramount to all others. He almost ceased to think of Apaches in his wild desire for something with which to satisfy the cravings within.

The heavy trunk, covered with a few knotty protuberances, kept very nearly in the center of the stream and shifted on below the wood, across the open space and around the curve which has been already referred to, by which time it was fairly dark. Beyond this he could discern the outlines of the grove in the encampment of the day before, and where his own rush for liberty had been made. Were the Apaches still there, awaiting the conclusion of the hunt for him? This was the question, and, in his desire to answer it, he carefully steadied himself until he stood upright upon the log, so as to look across the intervening space to the wood beyond.

"If they're there, they'd be sure to have a camp fire," was the truthful conclusion; "but I can't catch sight of anything."

Had a point of light twinkled through the foliage, it is doubtful whether he could have had the courage to continue on down the stream to the point where it passed so close to the camp. No doubt he would have dodged it. But all continued dark and silent, and he was quite confident that they had gone. He crouched upon the raft again, and drifted with the current.

As he neared the rapids and narrow places where the water dashed over its rocky bed, it looked as if he would be unable to keep his seat upon the raft; but as this was the very section, where, above all others, he wished to keep his feet off the ground, he grasped the limbs and held on. He went safely on, although considerable water was splashed over him, and in a few minutes was in the broad, smooth current below, and so close to the grove that he trembled with fear.

In the dim moonlight he easily recognized the place, and for a few seconds he believed he had committed a fatal error in retracing his route in this fashion; but the silence remained unbroken, and he began breathing more freely, when all at once one end of the trunk struck the shore; the other end swung round, but it remained fast, and his journey for a time was at an end.

Ned was dismayed and at a loss what to do, for the only way of breaking loose that he could see was to step ashore and shove off. He remained quiescent a moment or two, in the hope that the raft would loosen itself; but, as it did not, he sprang ashore for that purpose. As he did so, he looked around for some sign of his enemies, but there was none, and the fact gave him assurance that they had really gone.

"They must have had dinner there," was his conclusion, "and maybe they have left something that I can make use of."

Encouraged by this hope, he moved over the intervening space, and speedily reached the spot where Lone Wolf and his band had encamped twenty hours before. As he had taken his departure from the savages before dinner, he was not really certain that that important meal had taken place; but he made diligent search, resolved that he would find out beyond all peradventure. The very best good fortune attended him. He had hunted but a few minutes, when he trod among the ashes where the camp fire had been burning. This proved that a meal had been partaken of, and in this country, so prodigal in the different species of game, the Indians were not economical in the use of food. Groping around in the dark, his hands soon came upon a goodly-sized bone, plentifully covered with meat, which had not been cooked so that it could be called overdone. A starving wolf could not have devoured this with greater gusto than did he, nor could a dozen starving wolves have enjoyed it more than did the poor fellow who had been so long without any nourishment.

When it was gnawed clean he hunted around for more. There was no lack of the material, and Ned was thankful beyond expression for this wonderful piece of good fortune, by which he had escaped from Lone Wolf and his warriors, and then, when starving, had obtained the food he needed from them. He ate and ate, and then rested and ate again, until he had gormandized himself to his utmost capacity, when with a sigh of happiness, he rose to his feet, and stole back toward the stream where he had left his craft. It was found there as if waiting expressly for his return, and, shoving it loose, he made his way to near the middle, where he crouched down and looked around with a feeling of misgiving and fear.

"I wonder if it can hold me after such a supper? It is a little lower in the water, but I guess it can stand it."

Whither the stream was tending was a question for the wanderer to consider; but as he was without any possible means of determining, he did not devote much time to the consideration thereof. His purpose was to get ahead without leaving a trail behind, and that was what he was doing.



CHAPTER XV.

IN THE SOLITUDE.

Ned designed to drift down stream for a mile or so, by which time he expected to be at such a distance that there was no further possible danger of pursuit. It would then be necessary for him to get forward as fast as he could, taking care to avoid the redskins who were in front, rather than those in the rear.

He was a little alarmed to find, after going scarcely half that distance, that the stream was broadening very rapidly. The current as a consequence, became slower, and when he descried seemingly a large forest looming up before him, he concluded that the time had about come for him to disembark, and use his heels. But, prompted somewhat by curiosity, he remained a while longer, until, before he was aware, he discovered that the stream had debouched into a lake, nearly circular in shape, and fully a couple of hundred yards in diameter. The impetus of the current kept the tree moving slowly and still more slowly, until it had reached a point near the middle, when it gradually settled down to a complete standstill.

"That's odd!" exclaimed the lad, looking about him, and seeing the broad sweep of water on every hand. "If I knew this I think I should have got off."

It only remained for him to work his way to land, and this he began doing by using his hands as paddles. It was slow progress; and he was of the opinion that he had made a rather foolish blunder in permitting himself to be "carried out to sea" in this fashion. He was disturbed still further by the appearance of the sky. Dark, threatening clouds were gathering and sweeping across it, frequently shutting out the light of the moon and causing the most grotesque shadows to whisk over the surface of the lake.

The indications were that a violent storm was close at hand, and he used both hands with all the vigor at his command, and saw himself gradually nearing land—the rate being so moderate that it could not keep pace with his impatience. He was tempted more than once to leap into the water and swim or wade ashore, but he restrained himself. On one of these occasions, just as a heavy cloud approached the moon, and while his raft was a dozen yards or so from shore, he was alarmed at sight of something approaching him through the water. What it was he could not conjecture, as it was low down, and very indistinct on account of the gathering gloom.

As the cloud touched the moon and obscured the light, this suspicious object disappeared, and he awaited with no little alarm the outcome of the mystery. He was sitting motionless, looking and listening, when the end of the tree was suddenly elevated a full foot, while the other correspondingly descended.

With a gasp of terror, Ned clutched the limb near him and held on, not knowing whither he was about to be flung. A muttering growl at the same instant explained what it all meant, and he hastily retreated still further upon the tree, expecting every moment to feel the claws of the wild animal fastened upon him.

"It seems to me that these beasts are after me more than the Indians," was his thought, as he drew out his revolver, and awaited the necessity of using it.

Further than placing his paws upon one end of the trunk, and giving out a threatening growl, the animal did nothing for a few minutes, while the boy, fully sensible of the value of his ammunition, was equally lacking in offensive proceedings. Thus matters stood, while the great heavy cloud floated slowly by the moon, and the head of the unwelcome stranger gradually came to view.

It was some wild beast, beyond question, but it wasn't a bear. Its eyes, shining with a phosphorescent glow, and the cavernous growling that issued from the red jaws, made it seem the most frightful kind of a monster. Hoping that it was not particularly hungry, Ned tried the scare game again, flinging up his arms and shouting, and making noises horrible enough to frighten any one to whom they remained unexplained. In this case it succeeded admirably. The creature, whatever it was, must have concluded that it was something besides a boy with which it had taken passage, and, after indulging in one prolonged stare, dropped back into the water and paddled straight for shore.



"I don't think Lone Wolf can follow me all along this route," concluded the boy, as he resumed his paddling toward shore, and reached it in the course of the next ten minutes. He had been cramped up in one position so long that he felt the need of exercise, and started off at a rapid pace, with no more idea of the precise direction he was following than if he were blind.

The clouds sweeping across the sky grew heavier and darker, and the wind, strong and chilling, soughed through the trees of the forest with a dismal, wailing sound that would have frightened one of more years than young Chadmund. Even he would have shrunk from the task of going through the wood had the circumstances been different, but he was so actuated by the one all-controlling desire of escape that he forgot the real danger which encompassed him. Besides the risk of encountering the Apaches, there was the ever-present peril from wild beasts and venomous serpents. None of the latter as yet had disturbed him, but he was likely to step upon some coiling reptile, unseen in the dark, whose sting was certain death.

It soon became apparent that a storm of a most violent character was about to burst forth. The wind grew stronger and colder, lightning flashed athwart the darkening sky, and the thunder boomed with an increasing power peculiar to warm countries. The wanderer had been fortunate thus far in preserving himself from a ducking, and he was still desirous of doing so. There was nothing to be gained by pressing forward, and he began groping around for some kind of a shelter. This was difficult to find, as the gloom was so dense that eyesight was useless, and he could only use his hands.

"I guess I'll have to climb a tree," he thought, running his hand along the bark of one.

But at this juncture he ran against a rock, striking with such violence that he saw stars. As soon as he recovered he began an examination, and was not a little pleased to find that under one portion of it there was a hollow big enough for him to crawl in and protect himself from the tempest. He had scarcely done so when the storm burst forth.

First a few large drops pattered upon the leaves, and then it seemed as if the windows of Heaven had been opened. The rain descended in torrents, the firmament flamed with a blinding intensity—and the earth trembled with the reverberating thunder. The vivid sheets of electric fire made the darkness and gloom deeper by contrast. The trees, with their swaying branches, and the spear-like columns of rain, stood out and vanished again so rapidly that the vision of the appalled lad was dazzled and bewildered. The terrific shocks coming simultaneously with the lightning, proved that the thunderbolts were falling all around him, and again and again he thanked that Providence which had dissuaded him from taking refuge in some of the trees.

Crash!

Directly in front of him, an immense giant of the forest was smitten from top to base, the limbs, leaves, and splinters hurled in every direction, as if a thousand pounds of powder had been exploded within. The air was so surcharged with electricity that Ned felt the effect. A prickling sensation down one entire side of his body was followed by a partial numbness and paralysis that alarmed him. With his other hand he hastily rubbed his limbs, and turned and twisted, fearing that he was becoming helpless.

In a few minutes he regained the strength which had temporarily departed, and then noticed that the storm was subsiding as rapidly as it had arisen. The thunder died out in sullen mutterings; the lightning flashed fitfully, often without any perceptible report following, and the deluge diminished to a few drops.

"The storm is over, thank heaven!" he exclaimed. "As I have such a good bed, I may as well stay here till morning."

But at this instant his blood almost froze at the sudden discovery of a new and deadly peril.



CHAPTER XVI.

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.

Young Chadmund heard the unmistakable warning of a rattlesnake that was somewhere near him, and on the very point of striking. Precisely where it was, it was impossible to determine with any certainty; but there was no time to consider the matter. It seemed to him in that brief second he devoted to thought that the venomous reptile lay a little to the left, and he scrambled out of his place with all the celerity at his command.

The wonderful quickness of this usually sluggish snake, when about to deal its deadly blow is well known, and, had the boy moved with twice the rapidity that he did, Ned could not have escaped that lightning-like dart of the snake, which was aimed straight at his foot, that being the part of the body which was nearest his coil. The fangs struck the side of his shoe, which happened to move at the very instant the blow was made, and, piercing the leather, held the reptile fast,—"Hoist by his own petard," as it were,—so that, when Ned scrambled out from his shelter, he felt the horrid thing dangling at his heels.

With presence of mind hardly to be expected at such a time, he arose to his feet, and holding the attached foot motionless, with the other he hastily stamped all the life from the writhing rattlesnake. This done he freed the shoe by a jerk, although it tore the fangs of the reptile from its jaws.

"I think I'd better dust out of here," said the lad, breathlessly. "I remember that Corporal Hugg told me that where you found one of those things you are pretty sure of running against another close by, and I don't care about seeing any, especially when it's so dark you can't see at all."

He stepped carefully forth in the darkness, and, moving a few feet, paused to listen. The rain had ceased falling entirely, and only the faintest mutter of the distant thunder reached his ears. The darkness was absolutely impenetrable, and the wind, as it soughed through the wet branches, made the most dreary and dismal wailing—enough to strike despair to the bravest heart.

The boy had listened but a moment when a slight rustling among the leaves at his feet filled him with a sudden conviction that a second rattlesnake was after him. He left the spot expeditiously, not halting until he was sure that he was beyond reach of the unwelcome visitant, which, it is well known, is not much given to pursuing its prey.

"Hang it!" he exclaimed, "there ain't much fun in this. I wish daylight would come, so that I could see what to do."

His situation was exceedingly uncomfortable. Everything was soaked with water, and he could not walk without shaking down the moisture from the laden branches and undergrowth. He knew of but one place wherein he could secure protection and that was beneath the rock where he had so narrowly escaped the rattlesnake, but he was not very anxious to make his way back there.

While he stood debating what to do, he noticed that the sky was rapidly clearing, the black, tumultuous clouds rolling away from the face of the moon, which soon shone out with all its wonted power. This was a vast help, for, despite the dense shadows made by the heavy branches overhead, he was able to see enough to pick his way and noticed that the forest directly in front was quite open, indicating that he was close to the termination. Thus encouraged, he pressed ahead and soon had the satisfaction of finding that he was through the woods and on the border of an open, rocky ravine, through which he could hear a stream rushing with great violence, and which he took to be the outlet of the little lake that had been overcharged by the recent severe storm. So far as he could see by the moonlight, great masses of rock, boulders and broken prairie stretched out before him, and he asked himself how he was to make his way.

He concluded not to make the attempt just then, but, hunting out a place among the rocks, he crawled into it, first making sure, by a careful reconnaissance that no rattlesnakes had crept in ahead of him. He was permitted to remain undisturbed through the night, and when he opened his eyes the sun was shining directly in upon him. The boy then hastily sprang up, his heart full of gratitude to God for the wondrous manner in which his life had been preserved, and the remarkable success which had followed his attempt at escape from the Apaches.

With the coming of the glorious sunlight, Ned naturally felt buoyant and hopeful. He was not without considerable appetite, but he had eaten so heartily, on the previous evening, that he felt that he could afford to wait until night again; and he still had that impatient, almost unreasoning desire to get forward, which made him feel like breaking into a run, and keeping it up until he was out of breath.

But, young as was the little fellow, he was old enough to feel that the time had come when he must use all the brains in his command. Up to that hour, as will be understood, he had been journeying entirely at random, his sole purpose being to get beyond reach of Lone Wolf and his band. He had accomplished this, and a radical change of tactics must be made.

If Ned Chadmund had been a half dozen years older, he would have recoiled at the prospect before him; but he was so young and full of animal spirits that he did not really comprehend the difficulty and danger. He had traveled very little more than half the distance between Santa Fe and Fort Havens, and his purpose was to press ahead until the latter was reached. To do this, it was necessary that he should make his way through the mountains in which he now found himself, and then to journey a couple of hundred miles through or over prairie, and across streams, before he could reach the frontier post, where his father was so anxiously awaiting his coming. The project seemed nothing short of madness; but its justification lay in the fact that the wanderer had the choice of attempting that or lying down and dying where he was. He could do nothing but choose the former.

Ned climbed up to an elevated position and took an observation—his purpose, after learning whether any present danger threatened, being to learn the direction it was necessary to follow in order to reach Fort Havens.

"Corporal Hugg told me that after we reached Devil's Pass, it was in a straight line West. The trail winds in and out, as it has to do, but all one had to do was to dig ahead, and he would be sure to come out right in the end—that is, if the Indians and wild animals would only let him. Well, right yonder rose the sun," he continued, very carefully continuing his observation. "That must be the east, and all I have to do is to keep that at my back until it gets over my head and wears round to the front. So off we go."

There was one favorable accompaniment of this first thoughtful effort to reach home. The valley-like depression that had caught his eye upon rising ran precisely in the direction to be desired—due east and west—so that he had the best facility in the world for getting through the mountains. Still another favorable augury was that the general direction pursued by the Apaches was the same, and the fact was, there was very little still intervening between him and the open prairie beyond. Should his progress remain uninterrupted through the day, by nightfall he would be close to the prairie, which stretched away so many miles in the direction of the frontier post.

"I don't think it's as much as two hundred miles," he said, as he started off at a rapid walk. "I can make thirty miles a day, so that I will be there at the end of a week, if nothing unexpected gets in the way. Won't father be surprised when he sees me walk up, and won't I be surprised if I manage to do it, also!"



CHAPTER XVII.

A MYSTERIOUS CAMP FIRE.

For a couple of hours young Chadmund had difficulty in traveling. Despite the fact that he was in a sort of valley, with towering peaks and bluffs upon either hand, a great many boulders and obstructions obtruded themselves in his path, and he did some climbing, clambering, and jumping that would have reflected no discredit upon a mountain goat. The forenoon was about half gone, and he was felicitating himself upon the excellent progress he was making, when he was brought up all standing by finding himself upon the bank of a mountain stream, which crossed his route exactly at right angles, issuing from the mountains on the left with a rush and roar and pouring tumultuously forward with irresistible power and velocity.

"I can't wade that," said the lad, scratching his head in perplexity, "and it won't do to try and swim it. If I once got in there it would be the last of me."

There could be no doubt of that, for the stream was fully twenty feet in width, very deep, and sped forward like the volume of a river when suddenly compressed into a mountain canyon. It was walled in on either side by solid rock, the surface of the water being a couple of yards below the level where he stood.

"I wonder whether I can't go round it?" he said, after spending some time in mental debate. "It can't run all the way through the mountain, but must start somewhere not very far away."

This was not a very plausible theory; but as nothing was to be gained by standing still, he started out upon his tour of exploration. Better success followed than he expected. He had started toward the head of the stream and had clambered along less than a hundred yards, when he reached a place where it was so narrow that he was confident of his ability to leap across.

"Yes, I can do that," he said, approaching close to the edge and looking over the boiling abyss to the solid rock upon the other side. "But suppose I should miss my footing, wouldn't I catch it!"

It was a pretty good leap, but Ned was active, strong and swift, and he had made many a longer leap than the one before him. For a minute longer he stood, measuring the distance with his eye. Then going backward a few steps, he suddenly ran forward with all the speed at his command, and, concentrating all his strength, made such a leap that he cleared the chasm by a couple of feet.

"There!" he exclaimed, with some satisfaction, "if none of the streams are broader than that, I'll jump them all."

Still full of hope and in the best of spirits he pressed forward until the sun was at the meridian and the heat became so oppressive that he concluded to rest awhile. He was in a section of country where, at certain seasons, the heat is like that of the Desert of Sahara. There are portions of Arizona and Lower California where the fervor of the sun's rays at noonday smite the earth with the withering power of the sirocco.

At times, when Ned was down in the lowest portions of the valley, the heat was almost intolerable; and then, again, when he clambered to the top of some elevation, and the cool breezes from the upper regions fanned his cheeks, it was like a draught of water to the fever-parched patient.

He had lain on the ground under the protecting shadow of a rock but a short time when his eye rested upon something which convinced him that he was not the only one in the valley. Looking dreamily off toward the west, up the valley, with the mountains sloping down on the right and left, he noticed what at first seemed a thin bluish cloud, resting against the sky. Then he observed that its form was a little out of the usual order, it being column-shaped, tall, and like a shaft of almost invisible vapor, thrown against the white background beyond.

"That ain't a cloud," he suddenly exclaimed, starting to his feet and scrutinizing it more closely. "It's the smoke from a camp fire and I've got to go right by it."

There could be no doubt of the truth of what he said, and he became deeply interested.

"I wonder whether they're Indians or white men? I suppose it's most likely they are Apaches, and they may be Lone Wolf and his companions. I've got to keep a sharp lookout and keep from running into them. If they are white hunters, that I've heard are sometimes in these mountains, it will be a lucky thing for me."

Somehow or other he became impressed with the idea that the camp fire ahead of him was that of friends instead of enemies—that the assistance which he so sorely needed was thus placed within his reach. He had learned, long before, that one is apt to miscalculate the distance when placed as he was; but, making allowance for all that, he was confident that the camp fire was not more than a mile away. Yielding to a natural curiosity to learn its meaning, he shortened the hour which he had intended to devote to rest, and started ahead again.

Once or twice it seemed to him that he had dropped into some sort of trail, which he was following. Here and there were traces showing that the route had been traveled before. It seemed to be one of those natural roads or passes which are found at intervals in all great mountain chains, and without which, many of of them for vast distances would be literally impassable for man or animal.

The conviction that he was not the pioneer over that section caused the young wanderer some misgivings and suggested several discomforting questions. If Apaches had used the trail already, might not some of them be upon it? If some of them were coming from the opposite direction, how was he to avoid running into their arms? These queries were not of the most cheerful character and they served to tone down the enthusiasm which had marked his start in the morning. They also caused him to examine, more times than was really necessary, the revolver which had already done him such good service, and he went through a preliminary drill, consisting of placing it inside his waistcoat, a couple of buttons being left carelessly unfastened; next thrusting his hand within, in an indifferent manner, then instantly jerking out and pointing the weapon at an imaginary foe in front of him. This maneuver he repeated scores of times, narrowly escaping the firing of the weapon, until he satisfied himself that he could do it to perfection.

"Now, if Lone Wolf comes at me alone, I think I can manage him. He won't suspect that I've any weapon, and so won't be prepared for it; but I hope he won't show himself," he added the next minute. "If there's any way of avoiding him, I'll do it."

However, he was bent upon solving the mystery of the distant camp fire, which he still hoped might belong to some party of white hunters, who would take him under their protection and conduct him safely over the wide and dangerous stretch of territory which still intervened between him and his destination.

In spite of the careful calculation he had made, he soon learned that he had committed an error. Although the tell-tale smoke at first seemed scarcely a mile away, it was more than three times that distance. The way being more obstructed by rocks and the sinuous winding of the trail, he saw the sun sinking low in the west and found that he had still no little traveling to do.

"It can't be that they are shifting that camp fire all the time," he growled, as he clambered upon an elevation, and was again disappointed to find it so far away. "Blamed if it don't look as if somebody was playing a trick on me. I've heard of a jack-o'-lantern bobbing around in that style, but nothing else."

He finally concluded that the laws of nature were not violated in this case, and with renewed courage pressed ahead again. The sky was clear and cloudless, the weather remained oppressively warm, and poor Ned was so jaded that he felt scarcely able to drag one foot after the other, but he was stout-hearted, and, just as the sun dipped out of sight behind the mountains, he found himself within a hundred yards of the mysterious camp.



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE INDIAN FIGHT.

In spite of his great anxiety to learn all there was to be known about the camp fire, Ned remained where he was for half an hour, until he had rested somewhat from his severe labor.

The place in which the fire was kindled was elevated, rocky, uneven, and inclosed by a few stunted trees and undergrowth, so that while the young scout could catch a glimmer, now and then, of the fire, he could see nothing more. The only way in which he could perfect his information was to crawl up still nearer. This he proceeded to do, using all the care and caution possible, until, after the lapse of nearly an hour, he reached a point where his view was unobstructed and perfect.

A severe disappointment awaited him. He saw four Indian warriors grouped around the fire, their dress, and the peculiar manner in which they were painted, proving that they belonged to some tribe other than the Apaches. Three of them were occupied in cutting up and preparing the carcass of some animal, which they had shot, while the fourth was on his knees in front of the fire, carefully doctoring it for culinary purposes.

Succeeding Ned's first feeling of disappointment was an undercurrent of hope that he was in a fair way to obtain another good meal.

"It isn't likely they'll eat up all they've got," he reflected, "and I don't suppose they're going to settle down there for life. All I've got to do, then, is to hang round until they go away, and then, if I can get the chance, I'll stuff enough to last a week."

Having made his reconnaissance he withdrew to a more secret place, where he would not be seen in case some of the warriors should take a look around before retiring for the night. It was fortunate that he did so, for he had scarcely crawled away beneath a dense mass of undergrowth when he made the discovery that he had placed himself in a curious and singularly dangerous position.

Twice he fancied he heard a faint rustling in the rear of where he was crouching, and he was puzzled to know what it meant. He was sharp enough to protect himself from observation from this direction as well as from the front, and was no more than fairly secure when he caught the slight sound again, and the next moment detected the figure of an Indian stealing along, with his gaze fixed upon the camp fire and the forms around it.

The lad was naturally puzzled to understand the meaning of this. There was just enough fire light penetrating to where he was to show him that this redskin belonged to a different tribe from those in camp. Only a few minutes passed when he caught the glimpse of another warrior on the left, crouching along in the same manner as the other. Then followed the softest possible hiss, such as is made by the disturbed serpent, and, at that moment, the truth of the whole matter suddenly broke upon Ned Chadmund.

The strange Indians were quietly preparing their supper, unaware of the fact that, while they were thus employed, a party of Apaches, their deadly enemies, were closing in upon them. Thus, it was, too, that, without the knowledge of either side, the lad was directly between them, where it would seem impossible that he should escape being involved in the conflict that was rapidly drawing to a head.

There was no hope of withdrawing, for the slightest movement would be sure to make known his position, and he could only wait, therefore, the issue of the encounter with an intensity of interest which it is impossible to imagine. What could be more painfully interesting, for instance, than to watch the movements of the strange Indians as they engaged themselves in preparing their supper, conversing with each other in their grunting fashion, and to note their unconsciousness that a circle of death was slowly but surely closing in around them; to know, which they did not suspect, that the most deadly kind of encounter was close at hand? The endangered party certainly showed a lack of precaution which belongs to their people in the most ordinary cases when they went into camp in this fashion, and left the way open for such a deadly and fatal assault to be made upon them. It must have been that while engaged in the chase during the day they had made their observations, and satisfied themselves that none of their enemies were in dangerous proximity.

The odor of the cooking meat crept through the bushes to the nostrils of the hungry lad, who was almost maddened into charging upon the party himself in quest of some of the brown, crisp, roasting meat; but he restrained himself, in the hope that the issue of the unpleasantness would furnish him an opportunity to procure something for the inner man.

An Indian upon the warpath is as patient as the Esquimau who watches for a dozen hours beside the airhole, waiting for the seal to come to the surface. According to all human reasoning, there was no earthly necessity for any delay upon the part of the attacking Apaches, and yet, for full an hour longer, they maneuvered and reconnoitered, without striking a blow. Despite the tense condition of the lad's nerves, he began to grow drowsy and weary at the prolonged delay, and had the attack been deferred a short time longer, he would have dropped into a sound slumber.

The four strange Indians were permitted to finish their supper, and to engage in a comfortable smoke. This, however, was never completed. They were stretched out upon the ground in the most indolent manner imaginable, when several rifles suddenly broke the stillness, the Apache war whoop rang out with startling power, and a number of figures charged through the bushes like a horde of demons, all converging upon the group around the camp fire. Two of the latter had been instantly killed by the first volley poured in upon them. The others were wounded, but they were on their feet in an instant, fighting with the fury of tigers.

The battle was of the hurricane order, the third defender going down within a minute after the assaulting party closed in about them. The fourth, who was only slightly hurt seemed to have been caught at less disadvantage. He was a warrior of wonderful activity and strength, and used his hunting knife with good effect upon his first and second assailants with lightening-like quickness. Then as they began to crowd in upon him faster than he could provide against he circled his weapon around his head several times, so as to clear a brief open space, when, with a yell of defiance, he bounded high in the air, and vanished in the forest, his speed so amazing that it was vain for any one to think of pursuing him.

The battle ended as abruptly as it began. It was over in an instant, and the petrified spectator could scarcely realize what had taken place directly under his own eyes. He lay motionless, peering through the leaves that shut him in, scarcely daring to breathe as he watched the movements of the victors. He could scarcely suppress an exclamation of terror when he recognized among them his old captor and enemy, Lone Wolf.

"Just think of it," whispered Chadmund. "I have spent hours and hours, and have traveled night and day to get away from him, and here he is, within fifty feet of me again. How can I keep him from seeing my trail again in the morning? It does beat everything how this thing is getting mixed."

He took heart again, however, when he came to reflect that the greater part of the night was still before him, that Lone Wolf had undoubtedly given up all expectation of finding him, and, by using ordinary caution, he could still keep clear of him.

The Apaches did not remain long upon the scene of the encampment. The two of their own number that had been killed were lifted up, and then Lone Wolf and his few intrepid warriors took their departure. Thus it happened that within fifteen minutes after the first gun had been fired, and the first yell uttered, the boy found himself alone upon the scene of the terrible fight. Dreadful as were the place and the associations, he could not forget that he was nearly famished, and stealing his way to the fire, he hunted around until he found enough to satisfy the cravings within. This done, he made up his mind that it was best for him to do some traveling during the darkness, without waiting for the rising of the morrow's sun.



CHAPTER XIX.

A TERRIBLE MEETING.

As he moved along, weary and worn, the memory of the horrid fight he had seen by the camp fire, and especially the picture of those three stark, bloody forms that lay stretched upon the earth, seemingly watching every movement he made, followed and weighed him down like some smothering incubus. Then he saw, more vividly than ever before, the mountainous task ahead. With no horse, and the hundreds of miles of mountain and prairie, with the dangers besetting him on every hand, what possible hope had he for believing he was ever to reach his destination? The gloom of the night, the shadow of what he had so recently witnessed, and his own exhausted condition, no doubt had much to do with the distress; for his prospects were certainly as good as at morning, when he was so full of enthusiasm.

"I can't travel any further," he finally exclaimed, "and what's the use? It won't do any good."

When he paused in his wearisome tramp, he happened to be close to a tree, quite lofty, with numerous limbs, some of which were quite near the ground. It struck him at once that it would be a good plan to climb into this, and ensconce himself among the branches. At any rate, he was certain to be out of the way of the crawling snakes, and no wild animal could steal upon him while he was unconscious.

Without pausing more than a moment to consider, he ascended the tree, and, a short distance from the ground secured the very position he wanted. Here the limbs crossed and recrossed, and gnarled themselves in such a way, that the most pleasant kind of bed imaginable was found, and he stretched out his weary limbs upon it, thanking Heaven that had guided him to such a favorable place.

"I hope Lone Wolf won't be able to follow me here," was the wish he expressed, as he resigned himself to slumber.

But gentle sleep had not yet closed his eyelids when he was alarmed by hearing something beneath him. His first supposition was that it was Lone Wolf, for the sound resembled the stealthy tread of some person upon the soft earth; but after listening a few minutes he became satisfied that it was some animal instead.

"It's a wolf or panther that has scented my trail," was his conclusion, as he leaned over and peered cautiously down among the branches.

The moon shone more brightly than upon any night since he had started, but the shadow of the trees themselves obscured his view so much that his vision was of little use to him. It seemed to him, however, when he looked downward in this fashion, that once or twice he caught sight of a shadowy creature, whisking back and forth, leaping about like a dog, and apparently ready to make a bound upward among the branches.

But he could not make certain of what he saw, although there could be no doubt but that he heard something, and that some kind of a dangerous creature was close at hand.

"I guess he isn't going to hurt me," was his conclusion, after watching and listening a half hour, and after finding a heavy drowsiness was stealing over him. In this comfortable state of mind, he soon closed his eyes, and relapsed into a deep, refreshing sleep, which lasted an hour or more, when it ended in a peculiar manner. Very few boys are apt to lie quiet in their beds, and Ned Chadmund, in turning over upon his side, turned completely out of bed, and dropped through the branches to the ground.

The fall was so slight that it did not hurt him, except in the disagreeable shock that was inevitable. It flashed on him on the instant, and, recalling those stealthy footsteps that had so frightened him, he instantly sprang for the trunk, and began climbing with all the haste at his command. He was almost within reach of the limbs, when he heard a growl, and some denizen of the forest came plunging toward him.

With a thrill of terror, the lad made a tremendous effort, caught the limb with one hand, swung his leg over and drew himself up. As he did so, he felt distinctly the wind made by the body of the beast, as it leaped upward, and snapped with his huge jaws at his legs, which were withdrawn from its fangs just as they closed together. The creature, whatever it was, made a running leap, that carried him some distance beyond, when he struck the ground and ran a few leaps before turning about and retracing his steps.

Without waiting to gain a more distinct view, the lad crept back to his perch, where he tremblingly awaited the moment when it was to bound up among the limbs and attack him. After gaining his former position, he sat for a few minutes shivering like one with the ague, forgetting even to think of the revolver with which to defend himself in case the brute assaulted him. But it may have been that the dumb creature believed that he was already frightened to death, and there was no occasion for attempting anything further. At any rate nothing more was seen or heard of him.

Ned had been too thoroughly shaken up to gain any more sleep. He sat through the remaining hours of the night without closing his eyes a moment in slumber. They were the longest and the dreariest that he ever spent, but when the welcome light of morning came his foe had departed.

The wanderer waited a half hour or more, and carefully reconnoitered the grounds before descending; but, assured that the coast was clear, he came down to terra firma again and took up his line of march. His fear now was that his presence in the neighborhood might be discovered by Lone Wolf or some of his band, and, scarcely pausing long enough to swallow a few mouthfuls of water from a stream near at hand, he hastened forward, with his face toward the west.

It became evident, after journeying a short distance, that he was again following a distinctly-marked trail, one that was originally made by animals, most probably buffaloes, in their migrations from one section to another, and had been taken advantage of by men whose business or inclinations called them in the same direction. Here and there he saw marks that had been made by the hoofs of horses, and more than once he was certain he observed the trail of moccasins. The path was more direct and less laborious to travel, and he began to believe that, if he were left alone, he might succeed in reaching safety at some time or other.

For some two hours he tramped along through a section that gradually lost its mountainous character as he neared the rolling prairie beyond. He kept continually looking back and around him, on the alert for Indians; but not a sign was discovered, until he approached an exceptionally rocky place, where the trail wound round the masses of stone at such a sharp angle that the view was less than a dozen feet.

With no thought of danger, Ned walked around this corner, and on the instant found himself face to face with a swarthy Indian warrior who must have seen him approaching, and, dismounting from his horse, stood back and awaited his approach. That astounded look revealed not only this, but that the Indian was Lone Wolf.

Fate had brought the two together again, at the very time the heart of the weary fugitive was beating high with hope. There was no chance for retreat or hope of avoiding him. The eyes of the painted Apache glowed with a demoniac light, and his fingers twitched as he placed his right hand upon the buckhorn handle of a knife at his girdle.

"You run away—you see well—you lie—now I will cut out your eyes, and you will not see to run away again!"

There was no doubt that such was the purpose of the warrior, as he advanced upon the lad, who suddenly thrust his hand into his waistcoat for his revolver.

It was gone!

During the night it had dropped out without being noticed, and he was absolutely defenseless. He was breathless, paralyzed with terror.

"Yes, I will cut out your eyes, and then you will not see to run away," added the chief, striding toward him.

"Hold on thar, my copper-colored friend! This 'ere is a little row you kin settle with me, instead of that boy thar. Try that knife on my eyes, and while you're doing it, I'll try mine on yourn."



It was Tom Hardynge, the scout, who spoke thus opportunely.



CHAPTER XX.

WHITE VS. RED.

The hunter seemed to step forth from some crevice in the rocks, wherein he had been concealed, and strode forward in such a manner that Lone Wolf saw him at the very instant the first word was uttered.

The latter withdrew his gaze from the boy and turned with lightning-like swiftness upon his adversary, while the latter, as cool and self-possessed as if he were about to slice up an antelope or buffalo, continued approaching with his hunting knife firmly clasped in his right hand. The Indian, perceiving the character of the fight, flung his rifle several yards from him, where it was beyond the reach of both, and recoiling a single step, put himself in form to receive the charge of his assailant.

"Ned, my boy," said the latter, without looking at him, "get back. There's no telling what may happen."

This was no more than a prudent caution. The fight was over the boy, and if Lone Wolf should find the battle going against him, he would resort to any treacherous trick by which to destroy the prize,—such, for instance, as a sudden dart upon the unsuspecting spectator and the plunging of his knife to his heart before the active hunter could thwart him. Ned obeyed his rescuer, whom he had never seen before, and stepped back full a dozen yards from the combatants, but with his eyes intently fixed upon them.

Tom was not the man to advance blindly to the assault, for none knew better than he did the character of the foe he was about to assail. When, therefore, he was just within striking distance, he paused, and, with his grey eyes centered upon the black, snake-like orbs of the chief, began circling around him in a stealthy cat-like movement, on the lookout for some opening of which he might take advantage.

"Lone Wolf is a coward and a dog," he growled between his set teeth. "He fights with pappooses, but he is afraid of men."

This was said with the sole purpose of exasperating the warrior, who would thus have been placed at a slight disadvantage; but he was already like a concentrated volcano—calm outwardly, but surcharged with fire and death within. The taunt did not move his nerves an iota, and he replied in words which were scarcely less irritating.

"It is the boasting dog which never hurts. If Lone Wolf is a dog, why are you so afraid to come within his reach?"

The words were yet in his mouth when the scout dashed forward like a catapult and struck a tremendous blow, driven with such directness and swiftness that it could not have been parried. At the very instant Hardynge made the charge, Lone Wolf did the same, and the two similar blows, aimed at the same moment, encountered half way with such terrible violence that both knives were hurled twenty feet beyond over the cliff at their side, and irrevocably beyond their reach. This left them with no weapons except such as nature had provided them with, and, now that their blood was up and each was smarting under the pain of the first collision, they immediately closed in and grappled each other like a couple of infuriated gladiators.

Hardynge was a marvel of strength and activity, and so was the Apache. The two were nearly evenly matched, a slight superiority in wrestling attaching to the white man, who, after a furious struggle of a minute or so, flung his antagonist as flat as could be, upon his back. He struck like an India-rubber ball, and, before Tom could fasten him down, so as to hold him, bounded up again and renewed his fight without a second's hesitation.

"The devil take you!" growled the maddened hunter, as he let drive a sledgehammer-like blow straight from the shoulder.

It encountered the chief fairly upon the forehead, with a force apparently sufficient to crush his skull, but it only sent him reeling back several paces, when his sinewy activity saved him from falling. With the same unhesitating promptness he charged as before.

"If that skull ain't more than six inches thick, it'll go this time," muttered Tom, as he gathered all his strength and sent out his fist like the thrust of a piston rod.

But Lone Wolf was expecting it and a quick flirt of the head to one side let the mallet go harmlessly by, while the impetus of his own blow threw Hardynge forward several steps, and narrowly escaped carrying him off his feet altogether. With an exasperating taunt the chief landed a blow upon the face of his antagonist as he shot by, and, catching him about the shoulder before he could recover, flung him to the ground with great violence, falling heavily upon him.

Had the knife of the Apache been in his hand at this juncture he would have ended the struggle in short order; but he was without the means of improving his advantage, and before he knew it he was turned from the chest of the prostrate man. And this critical moment, when the issue of the contest was very doubtful, a second figure came out from the rocks, and approached the combatants. It was that of Dick Morris, who coolly asked:

"Sha'n't I knock him on the head, Tom, and end this little row?"

"No," fairly shouted the enraged hunter, as they hammered away at each other. "If you do it, I'll knock you on the head. This is a fair and square fight in which the best man wins. If I can't knock thunder and lightning out of this redskin, let him knock it out of me. Stand back!"

"All right," replied Dick, very contentedly, walking to where the enthralled Ned Chadmund stood and asking him whether he wished to stake a little wager on the result.

The appearance of this third party ended the contest in a manner neither of the whites anticipated. The words of Tom Hardynge, declining the assistance of his friend, were understood by Lone Wolf; but, treacherous and faithless himself, he regarded them as only a part of a trap in which he was to be caught, and his whole purpose was to get out of the dilemma as quickly as possible. However hopeful he might be in a single hand-to-hand encounter with one of the men, he was not vain enough to think that he could master both. In their struggling they had approached quite close to the cliff, and Lone Wolf made a determined attempt to throw Tom over. By a little feinting and dodging, he managed to get him between himself and the edge and then began pressing him furiously.

"That's your game, is it?" exclaimed the scout. "If it is, sail in, and may the best man win."

Both were striking very wildly, when, hastily parrying several blows, Hardynge made a sudden rush, closed in, grasping the chief around the waist, and, lifting him clear of the ground, ran to the edge of the cliff and flung him over!

But Hardynge was outwitted. This was the very thing for which Lone Wolf had maneuvered so slyly. The cliff was not more than twenty feet in height, and when the hunter peered over the margin, expecting to see his enemy dashed to pieces at a great depth below, he saw him land as lightly as a panther upon his feet and then whisk out of sight among the rocks.

"Thunder and blazes!" he exclaimed, when he comprehended the little trick that had been played upon him. Jerking off his hat, he slammed it impatiently to the ground, and turning to his comrade, said:

"Did you ever see a bigger fool than me?"

"Don't think I ever did," was the serious reply.

"Never thought what the Injun was after till it was too late to hinder him."

"I knowed it all the time. This ere little chap could have seed as much himself," was the tantalizing reply.

"Why didn't you sing out, then, when you seed me pick him up and start to throw him over?"

"'Cause I thought you was only fooling. Do you know there's a reward of five hundred dollars offered for Lone Wolf, dead or alive? See what you have lost?"

"Who offered it?" demanded Tom.

"Colonel Chadmund told me that old Captain Alvarez, that owns a big ranch near Santa Fe, lost a thousand cattle by a stampede that he had got up, and he's the man that has promised a hundred times to give that reward to whoever wipes out the chief."

"Anything else to tell?" said Hardynge, disgustedly.

"Yes. When Colonel Chadmund told me that, he punched me slyly in the side, and says, 'And yes, Dick, I'll put another five hundred on top of it.'"

"Hain't you got a little more such news?" asked poor Tom, who was wondering whether it was possible to feel any more angered or disgusted with himself than he now felt.

"No—that'll do just now. I think you've had enough."



CHAPTER XXI.

FRIENDS TOGETHER.

Up to this stage the two hunters had found no opportunity to pay much heed to Ned, who had been rescued so narrowly from horrible cruelty. Tom Hardynge now advanced to where he stood, and thrust out his hand, his face one broad grin.

"How are ye, my lad? We've had a long tramp for ye, and come mighty nigh bein' too late."

"Have you been looking for me?" asked the boy, in amazement.

"Yes, sir, we've been on the hunt for some days."

"How is that?"

Dick Morris briefly explained how Colonel Chadmund had received warning through a friendly Indian runner of the projected massacre of the cavalry escort. Knowing that it was impossible to forward reinforcements to them in time, and that Lone Wolf was aiming specially to get his hands upon his little boy, he had sent Dick post-haste with orders to intercept Tom, if possible, and both had been instructed to secure possession of the lad by any possible means in their power.

After a cautious investigation at the outset, when they arrived at Devil's Pass, they found that the massacre had taken place almost twenty-four hours before. The sight was a terrible one, such as made even them shudder. The horses and soldiers lay scattered here and there, just as they fell. The beasts of the forest had offered them no disturbance, probably because there were more inviting feasts elsewhere. But in the warm summer air the bloody, hacked faces were discolored and swollen beyond recognition. The hunters rode carefully along, and counted the whole thirteen, and when they found the overturned and wrecked ambulance and the dead horse a short distance beyond they were able to hit the right theory. It was in this carriage that young Chadmund had been riding when he was captured, and the scouts set out at once upon the trail of the Apache war-party.