 CHAPTER 20 SUTZ CAMPFIRE But where are lone wolf and his warriors?" asked Fred. "'Bick yonder somewhere,' replied the scout, indifferently. "'They came over into the woods this side of the paste to look for the cow-woos that had been picking off their warriors. "'You'll take them some time to find the varmints are raking.' "'It's M'surf that would like to axe a conundrum,' said Mickey, "'provided that none of the gentlemen present object to the scene.' Sutt gave the Irishman to understand that he was always pleased to hear any inquiry from him, if he asked it respectfully. "'The question is this. How long are we to keep trampin' along in this stale? "'Is it to be for one week or two, or for a month? "'The reason for me makin' this respectful inquiry is that the laddie and M'surf have become accustomed to raidenin' upon horses, and it goes rather rough to make the change,' as Jimmy O'Brien said when he broke through the ice and was forced to take a wash, out of havin' done without the same thing for several months.' This gentle intimation from Mickey that he preferred to ride was promptly answered by the scout to the effect that his own mustang was some distance away in the wood, but he was unable to locate either of theirs which they abandoned at the time they took such hurried refuge in the narrow ravine. "'Look, Forts, but come o' all the creatures,' persisted Mickey, who was anything but satisfied at this plodding along. Lone Wolf and his spar-penes did not raide away upon their horses. "'No. Which you may sculpt me if any of them are big enough fools to leave their animals where there seems to be any danger other folks layin' hands on them. When the rest of his band come over under him, as they supposed an answer to their signal, they took mighty good care not to leave their houses where there were any chance for the cowers to put their claws on them. They rode off up the pass till they could reach a place where the brutes could climb up and join their owners. "'Then I'm to consider the question settled,' responded Mickey, and what a tramp all the way to New Boston if the place is still standing. Of course we can do the same which I take to be three or four thousand miles, provided we have the time to do it and ain't disturbed.' So, after permitting his friend to hold this opinion for a time, corrected it in his own way. "'There ain't no use of trying to reach home on foot any more than there is of climbing up that wall with your toes. After we strike camp, we'll stop long enough to eat two or three buffles and rest, and while you're at that sort of bee is I'll lie it out and scare up something in the way of house-flesh. There's plenty of it in this part of the world, and a man needn't hunt long to find it. Are you satisfied, Mickey?' The Irishman could not feel otherwise, and he expressed his profound obligation to the Scout for the invaluable services he had already rendered them. "'Lone Wolf knows me,' said Sutt, making a rather sudden turn in the conversation. Me and him have had some tough scrimmages years ago as I was still in that barnwell or big fowl, rather, that has had the charge of starting the place called New Boston. I've got enough scars to remember him by, and he carries a few that he got from me. I have a style of sliding his warriors under when I run afoul of them that Lone Wolf understands, and he's learned long ago who it was that wiped out them two varmints he sent out to look round after me. Here we are.' As he spoke, he reached a break in the continuity of the wall to which they had been clinging. The opening was somewhat similar to that into which Mickey and Fred had been driven in such a hurry except that it was broader and the slope seemed more gradual. Simpson turned abruptly to the left, and they began clambering upward. It took a considerable time to reach the level, and when they did so the Scout led them back to the edge of the pass which wound along fifty or a hundred feet below them. That's where we've come from, said he, as they looked down in the moonlit gorge. And while that's mighty handy at times, yet it's a bad place to get couched in as you're found out for yourselves. No one will dispute your soot, especially when Lone Wolf in a score of spalpenes appears in front of you, and when you turn about to lave you find him in a dozen more on your rear. That was a smart trick, was the same. But if he hadn't showed himself in both places at the same time we would have stood a chance again with him the slip as we had good horses under us. Can't always be certain of that. Them barmen have ways of telegraphing ahead of you to some of their friends so that you'll run heels over head into some trap unless you understand their divlements and tricky ways. When we were in camp, said Fred, we saw the smoke of a little fire nearby. Was it yours? At war, replied Sut with a curious solemnity, I kindled that far and nursed it. Well, it bothered us a good deal. We didn't know what to make of it, Mickey and I. It bothered the varmints a good deal more, which were what it were intended for. I meant it for a cow with signal fire, and if it hadn't been started about that time, you did some other grizzly buyer down on you in the shape of patches. But it didn't help us all the way through. They came down on us a little while afterwards. That were accident, said Sut. It pure is kind of accident. One of them things that is like to happen in which we don't look for. A kind of a surprise like. As my father observed when he found we had twins in the family, interrupted Mickey. The changes are ten to one. That thing couldn't happen again, but luck just then was the other way. Lone wolf and his men were on their way home, and had no more idea of meeting you folks than he had an action me to come down and act as bridesmaid for his daughter when she gets married. You suppose he noticed, Sut? That's the Irishman. It isn't likely that he did it first. But the sight of the young girl must have made him specious, and after he rammed you into the rocks, I guess he knew pretty well how things stood, and he were bound to have both of you. What made him want me so bad? asked Fred. I never understood how that was. The tall scouts standing on the edge of the broad, deep ravine looked down at the handsome face of the boy, to whom he felt attracted by a stronger affection than either he or the Irishman suspected. Bless you so, my young girl, that ear-lone wolf that they call such a great chief, and may as well own up and say that he is, is heavy on ransom, and he ain't the only chief that's in that line. That skunk runs off with men, women, and boys, and his rule is not to give him up again till he gets a good round price. He calculated on making a good thing off you, and I'd rather think he would. Does he always give up those, then, that their friends want to ransom? Not by any means. It's altogether as the notion takes him. He sports more scopes and top-knots than any of his brother-chiefs, and he never lets his stock run low. As them other varmints creep up on to him, he shoots ahead by scooping in more top-knots, and there's no use to their trying to butt against him. He's way ahead of them, and there he's bound to stay, and they can't have it. Then he might have used me the same way. After all the peens he took to get me, just as like as not. He's as ugly as the devil himself. Two years ago he stole a good-looking gal up near Santa Fe. He had a chance for the biggest kind of ransom, but the poor gal had long golden hair, and the skunk wanted it for an ornament, and he took it, too, and thinks more of it than any out of his hundred and more. I'd rather get in your home among his people, and already found out there's a good show for a big ransom from your father. Just as like as not, he'd make up his mind that the best thing he could do would be to knock you on the head and raise you higher. And he'd do it, too. Well, thank heaven none of us are in his hands now, and I pray that he may never get us. The three were still standing as close to the edge of the ravine as was prudent, so that the moonlight fell about them. They were enabled to see quite a long distance up and down the pass, the uncertain light, however, causing objects to assume a fantastic contour which would have made an inexperienced person uncertain whether he was looking down upon animate or inanimate objects. They were on the point of moving away when Fred Munson exclaimed with some excitement, the country seems to be full of campfires or signal fires. Yonder is one just started. He pointed up the ravine and to the other side where an unusually bright star seemed to be rising over the solitude beyond. It was about a quarter of a mile away, and its brightness such as to show its nature. Yes, that's one of them, said the scout in a tone which showed that he had no particular interest in it. Can you read with the same mains? Asked Mickey, who was gradually accumulating a wonderful faith in the woodcraft of the scout. But the latter laughed. It would have been the height of absurdity for him to have pretended that he could make anything of the meaning of a simple fire burning at night. It was only when actual signals were made that he could tell what they were intended for. It's some of the patches, I suppose. Loan wolf is in trouble, but I don't know as we've got anything to do with it. The night is getting along and we ought to be back to camp by this time. Without waiting longer he turned about and moved back into the wood, followed by his two friends. It seems strange to both of the latter that he could have left his Mustang so far away from the place where his self-imposed duties had called him to bring to not the cunning of his great enemy, the principal war chief of the Apaches. But the truth was, the camps of the scout and the redskin were not so widely separated as Mickey and Fred believed. He had selected the best sight possible and took a round about course in going to or from it as he had more means given to him of concealing his trail. There were places where the soil was so rocky and stony that the foot left not the slightest imprint of its passage. They had gone but a short distance from the ravine when they encountered one of the very stretches so valuable to persons in their predicament. No grass or vegetation of any kind impeded their way, and it was like walking over a hard, uncarpeted floor. Making their way across this, they struck into a wood that was denser than any they had encountered thus far. There their progress was slow, but they continued steadily forward, talking but little, and then in guarded tones. About the hour of midnight, the camp of Sut Simpson was reached. End of Chapter 20 Red by Thomas Rose Chapter 21 Of The Cave in the Mountain by Edward Ellis This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 21 Safety and Sleep There was nothing especially noticeable in the sight which the scout had selected for his campfire. His principal object had been secrecy, and he had obtained it beyond all per adventure. The place was more like a cavern than anything else except that it was open at the top, but it was walled in, on the four sides, so there was barely room for the three to enter. As the scout explained, he was perfectly familiar with that section of the country, and he lost no time in hunting out the spot. He had his horse with him at the time the Apaches drove Mickey and Fred in among the rocks, and he stayed until pretty certain they could keep the Apaches at bay until dark, when he made his way to a level spot enclosed by rocks. There he kindled a fire, cooked some antelope, and left his Mustang to graze and browse nearby while he returned to the assistance of his friends. Where did you shoot that unclear antelope, asked Mickey? I didn't shoot him at all. He's the one you fetched down. You left enough for me, so I didn't run the risk of firing my gun when the varmints were so close by, so I sliced out a hunk or two from the carcass and fetched it along. You haven't got any of it about you? Not enough for you, folks. No more than three or four pounds. The power is biturate. That's enough to steer her stomach, as Miss Secant remarked after swallowing her twenty-third dumpling. At the moment the party walked in among the rocks, the smoldering embers of the campfire were plainly seen. They needed but a little stirring to break forth into flame again, so as to light up the interior, which was about a dozen feet square with a height of a dozen feet, more or less. When the Irishman signified that something in the way of food would be acceptable, the scout produced it from among the leaves near at hand, and it was devoured with the heartiest kind of appetite. They had drunk all the water they needed, and the three assumed easy lounging attitudes, Mickey lighting his pipe, and enjoying himself immensely. This is what I call comfortable, he remarked, as my friend Patsy McFadden observed when the row began at the fair and the wax came from every quarter. I enjoy it. It's refining. It's soothing. It makes a man glad that he's alive. What do you think of it? asked the scout, turning to Fred, who was reclining upon the heavy Apache blanket with the appearance of one who was upon the verge of sleep. I feel very grateful to you, said he, rousing up, and I am more contented than I have been in a long time, but I'm afraid all the time that lone wolf for some of his braves might find out where we are, such smiled and a pitying way as he replied. Don't you suppose I'm old enough to fix all that? Haven't I learned enough of the Patsys and their divlements to keep them back? Well, I'll rather guess I have. As the night remained so warm that no comfort had always derived from the fire, it was agreed that it should be left to burn out gradually. It had been kindled originally by such for the purpose of cooking his meat, and he had renewed it so that his friends might see exactly where they were and at the same time look into each other's faces. Let me eggs you, said Mickey, puffing away at his pipe. Wither when we start, for whom we're going to take the pass, which seems as full of the spur-pines as me hid is of grand ideas. I can't be certain of that, replied Sutt thoughtfully. We can strike the prairie by going off here in another course, but it will take a long time, and the road is harder to travel. I like the pass a good deal the best, and unless the varmints seem too thick, we'll take it. If we could get a good fair start in the pass, we could keep ahead of them all the way till we struck the open prairie, when it would be elegant to see Louie and watch them falling behind, like a snail trying to catch a hare. The scout pointed to the lad and turning his head, Mickey saw that he was sound asleep. The poor fellow was so weary and worn out that he could not resist the approach of tired nature's sweet restorer, which carried him off so speedily into the land of dreams. I'm glad to observe it, said the Irishman, for the poor chap needs it. He's too young to be in this sort of business, and he couldn't prevent the circumstances, and we must help him out of the scrape as best we can. I'm with you, responded the scout. He's one of the most likely youngsters I've ever met, and I'll risk a good deal to fetch him along. I'm in hopes that we're pretty well out of the woods, though we may have some trouble before we get Claire alone wolfing the rest. As soon as we get the crunchers to raid, I suppose we can be off. That's all, and that won't take me long. I'm used to finding horses that the varmints are fools enough to say are theirs. One day last spring I were over near the stakes plain, all alone, when I got caught in one of them awful Nor'easters, and I never came so near freezing to death and all my life. Them sort of winds go right to the mirror of your bones, and it takes you a week to thaw out. While, sir, while I was trying to start a fire, a couple of Comanches managed to slip up and steal my Mustang. I didn't find it out till three or four hours after, and then I were mad. I couldn't stand no such loss, so I tucked the trail and started off on a deer trot after them. While, sir, I chased them infernal varmints close on to twenty miles before I run them to earth, then I found them down into a deep holler where I come night-tumbling heagles overhead right in between them before I knowed who they were. You see, it were a piece of the meanest kind of benches on their part, because they each had a Mustang, and I hadn't any, and they were leading mine. I laid low for them varmints till night when I mounted my critter and struck off over the country leading their two beasts with me. I expected they'd follow, of course, for the two animals that I captured were such beauties as you don't meet every day, so I kept them on the go pretty steady for two days and nights when I struck into the chaparral, tethered all three horses, tumbled over onto the ground, and put in four hours of straight solid sleep such as makes a new man of a filly. Well, sir, would you believe it? When I woke up and went to mount my house, he wouldn't fire. Them same three skunks had managed to keep so close onto the trail that a four-eyed woke they slipped up, took off three of the animals, and were miles away when I opened my eyes. Well, you may sculpt me if I wasn't mad, and I couldn't help laughing, too, to think how nice they had come it over me. As the game had begun between us, I took the trail and followed it for a half a week. You see, them skunks didn't mean that I shouldn't get the best of them again. They rode fast and kept it up as long as their horses could stand it by which time they had every reason to think they were a hundred miles ahead of me, and so they went in for a good rest, intending when they had got that to keep up their flight until they reached their village up near the headwaters of the Canadian. Of course, there wouldn't have been any show for me if I hadn't had a streaky look. I know that country like a book, and I were pretty certain of the trail them thieves meant to take, so I started to cut across and hit them off. I hadn't gone far when I come upon the camp of a Comanche War Party number in a hundred. I hadn't any trouble in picking out an animal that suited, and then you see I were all right, and for fear I might get off the track I come back and took up the trail again, and I kept it so hawked that when they went into camp I weren't more two miles away. I didn't want to come any closer for if they'd found out I was so near they wouldn't have given me any kind of a chance at all. I waited till it was dark and there wasn't a bit of moon that night when I sneaked into camp and got their three animals again and headed for Port Severn. I made up my mind to keep the thing going without giving them the slightest chance to pull up. The weather had toned down so that it was comfortable to travel, and after I got out of hearing of the camp I just swung my hat and kicked and laughed to think how cheap them varmints would feel when they'd come to wake up in the morning and find out how nice the white man had got a head of them. You see, it were just a question as to which of us were the smartest. We weren't going for each other's hire, though we'd done that any other time, but for each other's horses and I'd stole theirs twice till they're still in mine once and I still held them so I had good reason to crow over them. While, sir, I made up my mind that they weren't going to come any shenanigan over me and I struck the shortest line for Fort Severn. I rode through that very pass in which you come so near getting caught, and, in fact, the place where I got the horses weren't ten miles from that big cave. I had plain sailing all the way into the fort and everything went along well. I had only to ride on my critter when the others galloped along like so many dogs. You see, I meant business, and I kept a watch for them varmints all the time. When I stopped for food or rest, I made certain they weren't any war in sight and during the three or four days that followed, I never slept an hour together. I managed to snatch a few minutes slumber while riding my Mustang on a full gallop, but when I stopped to give the animals time to rest, I kept watch, for I felt as though it would break my heart to be outwitted again. I made the best kind of time and my last camp was within a dozen miles of Fort Severn. I was pretty well used up by that time and making sure that the varmints weren't anywhere within a day's ride. I put in a good two hours sleep. Well, I never rightly understood it, and it sucked with the sigh, and I'm always ashamed to tell it, but when I went out to mount my Mustang, the whole fort were gone and the moccasin tracks on the ground showed who had tucked them. I can't understand to this day how them varmints kept so close behind me and how they were ready when the chants come into their way, but they were, and they beat me as fairly as the thing was ever done in this world. Didn't you try to fooling them? No. I thought I might as well give up. I sneaked into the fort and tried to keep the thing from them, but I couldn't tell a straight story, and they found out how it was at last, and I don't suppose I'll ever hear the last of it. A short time afterward, the two laid down and slept. CHAPTER XXII. All three of the little party needed rest, and none of them opened their eyes until morning, as a simple precaution the scouts smothered the fire entirely by scraping the ashes over the embers. Not a ray of moonlight could reach them, and they were wrapped in the most impenetrable darkness. As might be expected, Sut Simpson was the first to open his eyes, and by the time the sun was up all three were stirring. Enough meat remained over from the feast of the night before to furnish them with a substantial breakfast, and cool refreshing water was at hand for drink and evolution. When the preliminaries had been completed, Sut went out to learn whether any of the apaches were threateningly near. He wished, too, to prepare his horse for a ride to a point a dozen miles away close to the margin of the prairie, where he intended to establish himself until he could procure the two animals that were needed by his companions. He had not been gone ten minutes when he came back in great excitement. My Mustang is stolen. May I be scoped? And then he added a general wail. Them redskins is getting to be the greatest house thieves in the world. I don't know what's to become of us that they're going to keep on in that way. Mickey laughed heartily for he recalled the narrative of the night before. In the game for Horseflesh it looked very much as if the apaches could be Sut's tutors. May I respectfully inquire how you got that creature in the first piece? Why, bought him off the varmints? How much did you pay? Wall. Laughed Sut in turn. I haven't paid anything yet. Are you supposed they've sent in their account till they're tired? Paying in here doesn't pay any attention. They've come to take them back again. Are you sure that it was done by the Indians, asked Fred, a little frightened at learning that they'd been so close while he's slept? There ain't a bit of doubt. I've looked the ground over and merged the trail as plain as the nose on your face. How many? Two. And they did it during the night? No. Replied the scout, displaying his wonderful woodcraft. The varmints come yesterday afternoon just at dusk after I took supper and left. How do you know that? I'd be a fool if I couldn't tell by the look of a trail how long ago it were made. It seemed impossible that such was the fact, and yet, young as was Fred, he had heard of such things, and the scout spoke after the manner of one who meant what he said. McGarber, it's missif that has it, exclaimed Mickey with a sudden lighting up of the countenance. There are the same two spell-penes that took your horse down by the steeped plain and then followed you up and did the same thing over again just as you was going into Fort Siverd. But the scout shook his head. The varmints don't know much about pity, but that's too rough a thing even for a commensude to repeat. I have a spish and a lone wolf had a hand in that and I'm going for them. Come along. And the indignant such strode out of the camp followed by his friends. He was not the man to submit to such a loss, and they saw that he was in deadly earnest. He neither spoke nor looked behind him for the next quarter of an hour, nor were his friends able to tell what direction he was following, for he changed so often winding in and out among the trees that they could form no conjecture as to the general course taken. They saw that he was following a trail, for he continually looked down at the ground in front of him, and then glanced to the right and left occasionally inclining his head as though he was listening for something which he expected to hear. He appeared to be altogether unconscious of the fact that he had companions at all, and they sought to imitate his stealthy cat-like movement without venturing to speak. After travelling the distance mentioned, and while they were moving along in the same cautious way, the scout suddenly wheeled on his knee and faced him. See you! he said. It won't do for you to travel any further. What's up? asked Mickey. While the trail's getting too hot, I ain't far from them horses. One of the dozens you'll want us to stand by and observe the staya and what you are going to scoop them in? Simpson shook his head. You're both too green to try this kind of business. I never could get a chance at them varmints if I took you along. All you got to do is stay here till I get back. That won't be long. Suppose you don't get back at all? As spread anxiously. Then you needn't wait. But ain't it probable that some of the Apaches will visit us? The scout was quite confident that the contingency would not occur, but as long as they were in that part of the world, so long were they in danger of the Redskins. It was never prudent to lay aside habits of caution, but he did not believe they were liable to molestation at that time. He charged them to keep quiet and always on the alert, and to expect his return within a couple of hours, although he might be delayed until noon. They were not to feel any apprehension unless the entire day should pass without his coming. Still even that would be possible, he said, without implying anything more than that he had encountered unexpected difficulties in regaining his horse. They were still to wait for him until the morrow, and if he continued absent they were at liberty to conclude that the time had come for him to pass in his checks, and they were to make the effort to reach home the best way they could. With this understanding they separated. At the time Sut left his friends the trail was exceedingly hot, as he expressed it, and he was confident that within the next half-hour he could force matters to an issue. The scout was of the opinion that a couple of Apaches had accidentally struck his trail or happened directly upon his horse while he was grazing, and without suspecting his ownership had taken him away. The trail led toward the Apache camp although by a winding course, and that was not far away. He was desirous of coming up with the marauders before they joined in with the others. In that case he would consider himself fully equal to the task of getting even with them, but it was not likely that they would go into camp when they were so close to the main body. Shortly after, to his great surprise, he came upon his Mustang tied by a long laria to the limb of a tree and contentedly grazing upon the grass, which was quite abundant. There was not the sign of an Indian visible. Sculpt me if that ain't a pretty way to manage things, he exclaimed, astonished at the shape the matter had taken. The environments couldn't have known that Sut Simpson owned that horse or they'd have tied him up tighter than that, and they'd had somebody down here to watch him, but they were a couple of greenies, that's mighty certain. It's a wonder they didn't fetch out some of their Mustangs and leave them where I could lay my hands on to them, but I'd rather think I've got my own horse this time as easy as a chut need to expect to get anything in this world. There was something so curious in the fact of the horse being left alone that Sut was a little suspicious and decided to reconnoiter thoroughly before venturing further. He was partly hidden behind a large tree and had been so cautious and noiseless in his movements that his Mustang, which was one of the quickest to detect the approach of any one, was unaware of his presence. Sut was on the point of going forward when a movement in the wood on the other side of where the animal was grazing attracted his attention and he paused. At the same instant his steed lifted his head. There could be no doubt as to the cause, for within the next minute the figure of an Indian stepped forward toward the animal and proceeded to examine him with a care and minuteness which showed that he expected to identify his ownership. The eyes of Simpson lit up and an expression of exultation crossed his countenance not merely because the red skin before him was in his power, but because he recognized him as no one else but Lone Wolf, the Apache war chief. It looked as if the horse thieves had approached the vicinity of camp with their plunder and then securing him to the branch of the tree had gone in and reported what they had done. Lone Wolf, suspecting perhaps that it was the property of his enemies Sut Simpson, had stolen out quietly and alone to satisfy himself. He knew all the trademarks of the hunters so well that he could not be deceived. This was the theory which instantly occurred to Sut who muttered to himself, Oh, it's mine, and I'm here, though you don't think it, and we'll soon shake hands over it. The scouts speedily assured himself that Lone Wolf was alone, that he had no half-dozen retainers who would immediately precipitate themselves upon him the instant a row should begin. Lone Wolf had no rifle with him, but carried his huge knife at his girdle, one of the most formidable instruments ever seen. As he walked slowly about the Mustang, scrutinizing him very carefully, he brought himself within a yard or two of where Sut Simpson crouched. The latter waited until he was the nearest when he stepped forward with his drawn knife in hand and placing himself directly in front of the astounded war chief said, Now, Lone Wolf, we'll make our account square. As the scout uttered these words, the Apache whorled like lightning and drew his knife. His swarthy, painted face glowed with passion and his black eyes twinkled with a deadly light. Seeing that he had no weapon but the knife, Sut Simpson, with a certain rude chivalry that did him credit, left his rifle leaning against the tree while he advanced with a weapon corresponding to that of his enemy so that both stood upon the same footing. Lone Wolf is glad to meet the white dog that he has hunted so long, said the chieftain speaking English like a native. With a sardonic grin, Sut replied, Let's play it out, old Pocker Ed, alluding to the chieftain's pitted face. I'm just as mad at you as I can be without you getting up any fancy diados to upset my nerves. I've come for you this time, and the best thing you can do is to proceed to business. They were facing each other with drawn knives almost toe to toe and each waiting for the other to lead off. It would have been hard to tell which stood the best chance of winning. Lone Wolf suddenly sprang forward like a panther and made a vicious lunge with his knife, Sut easily avoiding it by leaping back when in turn he made a similar attempt upon his adversary, who escaped in precisely the same manner. But the scout noticed an unaccountable thing. Lone Wolf had dropped his knife. True, he picked it up like a flash and put himself on guard, but how it was that a veteran like him could have made such a slip was totally unexplainable to his foe. But the explanation came in the next moment when the chief, without removing his eyes from those of the white man, cautiously changed the knife to his left hand. His right arm was injured in some way so that it was unreliable. He had shown this first by dropping the weapon while attempting to use it, and he showed it again by shifting it to his left hand, thus placing himself at a frightful disadvantage. Sut saw no wound. Yet there could be no doubt of the truth, and his feelings changed on the instant. He felt himself the meanest of men to attempt to overcome an almost helpless foe. Lone Wolf? said he, still looking him straight in the eyes. Why don't you hold your knife in the hand that you generally do? Lone Wolf could slay the dog of a white man with which hand he may choose. You haven't been able to do it with both hands during all these years that you've been trying when you've had your whole tribe to help you. But don't make a fool of yourself, Lone Wolf. Are you right arm hurt? Lone Wolf will fight the white dog with his strong arm. No, you don't. Let's play it out. Growled the scout shoving his knife back in his girdle. I don't love you any more, and I love the devil, and I felt happy to think that I had got a chance at last to get square with you. But when I lift the top knot of Lone Wolf and slide him under, he's got to have the same chance that I have. I don't believe you'd act that way toward me when then you're a red-skinned, and that makes the difference. Lone Wolf will adjourn the fact till you're yourself again. And deliberately turning away, the scout vaulted upon the back of the Mustang, cutting the lariat that held him by a sweep of the knife. I suppose alone I got some claim on this beast. So good-bye. And without turning to look at him again, he rode deliberately away. The Apache stood like a statue, staring at him until he was hidden from view by the intervening trees. Then he turned and walked slowly in the opposite direction. No doubt with strange thoughts in his brain. I don't know how that scamp will take it, uttered Sutt as he rode along. He's one of the ugliest dogs that ever wore a painted face, and if he could catch me with a broken arm or head, he wouldn't want anything better than to chop me up into minced meat. But as I told the old man himself, he's an engine, and I ain't. And that's what's the matter. The wood was too dense and the ground too uneven to permit him to ride at a faster gate than a walk. But long before the appointed hour was up, he rejoined his friends who were as surprised as pleased at his prompt reappearance. But where are the beasts that you promised to furnish us? Enquired Mickey, who had very little relish for the prospect of walking any portion of the distance homeward. That's what I have for you before the sun goes down, was the confident reply. I'll get you one house anyway, which maybe is just as good as two for the weight of the yanker don't make no difference, and we can get along with one beast better than two. They submit to your superior judgment, said the Irishman deferentially, and would suggest that the sooner the seam quadruped is procured the better all round. I hope the thing won't be delayed as meant observed when the judge sentenced our husband to be hung. Said explain that his plan was to ride some distance further to a spot which he had in mind, where they would be safer against being trailed. There, consequently, they could wait with more security while he went for the much-needed horse. Time was precious, and no one realized it more than Sut Simpson. He turned the head of the Mustang toward the left, and after he had started leaped to the ground and walked ahead, acting the part of a guide for the horse as well as for his friends. The surface over which they journeyed was of the roughest nature. The fact of it was the scout was working the party out toward the open prairie without availing himself of the pass, an undertaking which would have been almost impossible to anyone else. At the same time, by picking his way over the rocky surface and using all means possible to conceal their trail, he hoped to baffle any pursuit that might be attempted. Lone Wolf was not the red skin to allow such a formidable enemy as Sut Simpson to walk away unmolested, even though he had received an unexpected piece of magnanimity at his hands. He had learned that it was he who had played such havoc among his warriors the day before, who had deceived them by cunningly uttered signals and had drawn away the red skin sufficiently to permit his two intended victims to walk out of his clutches. It had been a series of unparalleled exploits, the results of which would have exasperated the mildest-tempered Indian ever known. These thoughts were constantly in the mind of the scout as he picked out the path for his equine and human companions. He took unusual pains, for a great deal depended upon his success in hiding the trail as much as possible. Perhaps it is not correct to say that the Apaches could be thrown entirely off the scents if they should set themselves to work to run the fugitives under cover. None knew there's better than Sut himself. But he knew also that the thing could be partially done, and a partial success could be made a perfect one. That is, by adopting all the artifices at his command, the work of trailing could be rendered so difficult that it would be greatly delayed, so that it would require hours for the Apaches to unearth the hiding-place. And Sut meant to accomplish his self-imposed task during those few hours, so as to rejoin his friends and resume their flight before the sharp-witted pursuers could overhaul them. The journey, therefore, was made one of the most difficult imaginable. The Mustang was unshod, and yet he clambered up steep places and over rocks and threw gravelly gullies where the ordinary horse would have been powerless, the animal seemed to enter into the spirit of the occasion, and his performances again and again excited the wonder and admiration of Mickey and Fred. The creature had undergone the severest kind of training, at the hands of an unsurpassed veteran of the frontier. This laboratory's journeying continued for a couple of hours during which it seemed to the man and lad that they passed over several miles of the roughest traveling they had ever witnessed. The Mustang had fallen several times, but he sprang up again like a dog and showed no signs of injury or fatigue. Finally Sut made a halt, just as Mickey was on the point of protesting, and turning about so as to face his companions he smiled in his peculiar way as he spoke. You've stood it pretty well for green horns, and I'm going to give you a good rest. Do you mean to go into camp for a week or a month, or until the warm season is over? I'm going to leave you here while I go for some half-flesh, and it'll take longer time than before. But the Irishman insisted that he should be allowed to accompany the scout upon this dangerous expedition. For the reason that you're going to pick out this animal for me, he added, how do I know about what you'll pick out some ring-boned Steven cretter that trots sideways in his blind in both eyes? Fred, who dreaded the long spell of dreary waiting which seemed before him, asked that he might make one of the company, but Sut would not consent, and he objected to both. He finally compromised by agreeing to take the Irishman, but insisted that the lad should stay behind with his Mustang. A younger like you couldn't do is a bit of good, added Sut by way of explanation, and like as not, you'd get us into the worst kind of difficulty. Better stay where you be, rest, and be ready to mount your new animal as soon as we're back and scoot away for New Bolstin. How soon will you be back? He asked, feeling that he ought to make no objection to the decision. The forenoon was about half gone, and the scout looked up at the sky, removed his coon-skin cap, and thoughtfully wrinkled his brows as though he were solving some important mental problem. You may sculpt me, Yonker, but that's a mighty hard thing to tell. Now, I got back with my own animal a good deal sooner than I expected, but that same thing ain't like that'll happen again. More likely it'll be the other way, and we may be gone all day, and perhaps all night. And what have I to do with all that time? Wait. That'll be easy enough, or there's such a rough prank as I've given you. But suppose some of the Indians come here? I haven't got any gun or pistol, so what shall I do? My horse there lets you know when any of the armaments come sneaking round, and he'll do it too before they know where you be, so you'll have time to dig out. I ain't much in the way of using a knife, out of the scout. That depends on me gun for long range, and when I get into close quarters I'll throw this here. Tapping the handle of his knife round careless lack, but I got a little play thing for you that stood me well once or twice, and if it's any hip to you, why, you're welcome to it. It was gifted me by an officer down at Fort Massachusetts. As he spoke, the scout drew a small revolver, beautifully mounted and ornamented with silver which he handed to the lad who, as may be supposed, was delighted with the weapon. Just the thing exactly, he said as he turned it over in his hand. There are five barrels, and every one's loaded, added the scout. The peel which it gives a red skin ain't very big, but it's sure, and it'll hunt for him a good way he's off so the dog is at the back better than you expect. Sut told him that he expected to return by nightfall, and possibly before, but they might be kept away until morning. Under any circumstances, whether successful or not, they would be back within twenty-four hours, for they could better afford to wait and repeat the attempt than to stay away longer than that. The reason for this decision was that if any of the Apaches should attempt to trail them, and there was every reason to believe that they would, they would not need more than twenty-four hours to track them to this hiding place. It was especially necessary that a collision with them should be avoided as long as possible, for the Whites had everything to gain by such a course. As time was valuable, Sut did not delay the departure, and as he and Mickey gave the lad a cheery good-bye, they turned off to the right, and a minute later disappeared from view. Here I am alone again, he said to himself, accepting the horse, and I've got a loaded revolver. Sut don't think those Apaches can get here before tomorrow morning, and he knows more than I do about it, so I hope he's right. We've got thus far on our way home, and it would be a pity if we should fail. When he looked around, he saw nothing in the place or surroundings which would have commended it to him. There was water in the shape of a trickling stream, and that was plenty everywhere, but there was scarcely a spear of grass visible. The vegetation was stunted and unthrifty in appearance. There were stones and rocks everywhere with nothing that could serve as a shelter in case of storm. He searched for a considerable distance around, but was unable to find even a shelving rock beneath which he might creep and gather himself up if one of those terrific tempests peculiar to this region should happen to strike him. Nor did there seem to be any suitable refuge if the Apaches should attack him before he could retreat. He might crouch down behind some of the boulders and rocks, but the makeup of the surface around him was so similar that three redskins could surround him with perfect ease without any danger to themselves. Fred therefore made up his mind that he was in about as uncomfortable a situation as a fugitive could well be. CHAPTER XXIV NIGHT VISITORS As young Munson expected to remain where he was for the rest of the day and perhaps through the succeeding night and knew that he was in great danger, he made it his business to acquaint himself thoroughly with his position and with all the approaches there too. The first natural supposition was that the Apaches in following the fugitives to the spot would from the force of circumstances keep to the trail that being their only guide. This trail for the last two hundred yards led up a slope to where he was stationed upon what might have been called a landing in the ascent of the mountain. At the bottom of this two hundred yards or so was an irregular plateau beyond which the trail was lost. If the Apaches should show themselves before dark, he concluded as he looked over the ground, this is where they will be seen and that's the spot I must watch so long as I can see it. Fred was able to hide himself from view for the time being, but there was no way in which he could conceal the horse. He was sure to be the first object that would attract the eye of the Redskins from below, revealing to them the precise position of the fugitives. This reflection disturbed the lad a good deal, until he succeeded in convincing himself that, after all, it was fortunate that it was so. The Redskins detecting the Mustang among the rocks would believe that the three whites were there on the defensive. No matter if their force were a half dozen times as great they would make the attack with a great deal of caution and would probably maneuver around until dark in the expectation of a desperate fight, all of which Fred hoped would give him a good chance of stealing out and escaping them. This is a matter, of course, was based upon the idea that Sut Simpson, the veteran scout, had committed a serious error in believing that the pursuit would be slow, and such a mistake he had indeed made as the lad discovered in due time. The afternoon wore slowly away and the sunset was close at hand when Fred was lying upon his face, peering over the upper edge of a rock at the plateau below. The fact of it was, his eyes had been roaming over the same place so long that the stare had become a dreary aimless one. He was suddenly aroused, however, to the most intense attention by the discovery of an Apache warrior who drifted very serenely into the field of vision as if he were part of a moving panorama upon which the lad was gazing. The boy had been waiting so long for his appearance that he uttered an exclamation and half-rose to his feet in his excitement, but he quickly settled back again, and with an interest which it would be hard to describe, watched every movement of the red skin, as the tiger watches the approach of its victim. The Indians stalked up the other side of the plateau, walking slowly, looking right and left, in front and rear, and down at the ground, his manner showing that he was engaged in trailing the party, using all the care and skill of which he was the master. Reaching the middle of the plateau, he stopped, looked about, and made a gesture to someone behind him. A moment later a second Indian appeared, and then a third, the trio meeting near the center of the irregular plot where they immediately began a conversation. Each of the three was liberal with his gestures, and now and then Fred could catch the sound of their voices. What it was that could so deeply interest them at such a time he was at a loss to conjecture, but there could be no doubt that it related to the party they were pursuing. That must be all there are of them, he reflected after several minutes had passed without any other apaches becoming visible, but it seems to me it is a small force to chase us with. I've always understood that the Indians wanted to double the number of their enemies whenever they are going to attack them, but I suppose they've got some plan that I can't understand. They had been talking but a short time when Fred understood from their actions that they had detected the Mustang above them on the mountainside. They looked up several times, and pointed and gesticulated in the same earnest fashion. It suddenly occurred to the lad that he might play a good point on the Redskins, with the idea of delaying any offensive movement they might have under discussion. Pointing his revolver over the rock in front of him, he pulled the trigger. The report was as sharp and loud almost as that of a rifle, but the parties against whom it was aimed were in no more danger than if they had been in the city of Newark. The report had no sooner reached the ears of the apaches than they scattered as wildly as if they had heard the whizz of a dozen bullets by their faces. Fred chuckled over the success of his ruse, and made sure to keep himself hid from view. That will make them think that we're holding a sharp look out for them, and they'll be careful before they make an attack upon us. It seemed strange to him that the apaches who must know of the presence of Sut Simpson, who was equal to half a dozen men in such a situation, should have sent forward only three of their warrior's to trail him. It may be, he thought after a while, that these men know how to follow a trail faster than the others, and they have gone on ahead while the others are coming after them. I should think lone wolf would do anything in the world to catch Sut, who has done him so much injury. Night was drawing on a pace, darkness being due in less than an hour. Fred was naturally perplexed and alarmed, for he could not help feeling that he was in a most perilous position regarding which he should have had more advice from the scout before his departure. The only thing that seemed prudent for him to do was to wait until dark, and then quietly steal out and shift his position. It looked very much as if he could take care of himself for the night at least, but he did not see how he could take care of the Mustang which had already changed hands so often, and which was so necessary to their safety. Sut said he expected to be home by dark, and I wish he'd come, was the thought that passed through his mind over and over again as he looked into the gathering darkness and listened for the sounds of his friends. But the stillness remained unbroken and the shadows deepened until he saw that the night was fully come and he could move about without danger of being fired upon from a distance. The moon was late in rising so that the gloom was deep enough to hide one person from another when the distance was extremely slight. Although aware of this, Fred was afraid of some flank movement upon the part of the Apaches before he could get out of their reach. The suspicion that there were two men besides would make the Redskins very cautious in their movements, but a little maneuvering on their part might reveal the truth in which case the situation of the lad would be critical in the extreme. Fred had nerved himself to the task of stealing around the corner of a large rock and off into the darkness when he was startled by a quick sudden stamp of the horse. There might have been nothing in this but recalling what the scout had said about the skill of the animal as a sentinel, he had no doubt, but that it meant that he had scented danger and that the Redskins were close at hand. Scarcely pausing to reflect upon the advisability of the step, the lad began crawling in the direction of the animal not more than twenty feet away. Before he had passed half the distance, he was certain that a Redskin was at some deviltry for the horse stamped and snorted and showed such excitement that Fred forgot his own danger and springing to his feet ran rapidly toward the animal. Just as he reached him he saw that an Indian had him by the bridle and was trying to draw him along, the Mustang resisting but still yielding a step at a time. In a short time, if the thief was not disturbed, he would have gotten him beyond the possibility of rescue, he seemingly more anxious to secure the steed than the scalp of its owner. With never a thought of the consequences, Fred raised his revolver and blazed away with both barrels, aiming as best he could straight at the marauding Apache, who with a howl of rage and terror dropped the bridle of the Mustang and bound it away among the rocks. There! I guess when you want to burrow a horse again you'll ask the owner. The lad was reminded of his imprudence by the flash of a rifle almost in his face and the whizz of the bullet which grazed his cheek, but he still had two loaded chambers in his revolver and he wheeled for the purpose of sending one of them at least into the warrior that had made an attempt upon his life. At this critical juncture the Mustang displayed an intelligence that was wonderful. The Apache who was stealing upon him was near the steed, which without any preliminary warning let out both his heels knocking the unsuspecting wretch fully a dozen feet and stretching him badly wounded upon the ground. I wonder how many more there are, exclaimed the lad looking about him and expecting to see others rushing forward from the gloom, but the repulse for the time being was effectual and the way was clear. I guess I'd better get out of here, was the thought of Fred, for it ain't likely they'll leave me alone very long when they found out that I'm the only one left. With revolver in hand he moved hurriedly backward among the rocks and after going a few rods halted and looked for his pursuers whom he believed to be close behind him. There was something coming, but a moment's listening satisfied him that it was his Mustang which seemed to comprehend the extingency fully as well as he did himself. They don't know about that, he reflected. They can follow him better than they can me and he can't sneak along like I can. If they catch him they'll be pretty sure to catch me. He started to flee not from the Indians only but from the Mustang as well, but the speed of the latter was greater than his own and after several attempts to dodge him he gave it up. If you can travel so well, reflected Fred, you might as well carry me on your back. Saying this he leaped upon the animal's back and gave him free reign. The animal was going it on his own hook and he plunged and labored along for some minutes longer over the rockiest sort of surface until he halted of his own accord. The instant he did so Fred leaped to the ground, paused and listened for his pursuers. Nothing but the hurried breathing of the Mustang could be heard. The latter held his head well up with his ears thrown forward in the attitude of attention, but minute after minute passed and the stillness remained unbroken. It looked indeed as if the fugitive horse and boy had found rest for the time and so long as the darkness continued there was no necessity for further flight. Leaving Fred Munson to watch for the approach of the Indians it becomes necessary to follow Mickey O'Roonie and Sut Simpson on their hunt for a horse with which to continue their flight from the mountains and across the prairies. It cannot be said that the scout in starting upon this expedition had any particular plan and view. As he remarked, Indians were around them and wherever Indians were found it was safe to look for the best kind of horses. Wherever the best opportunity offered there he intended to strike. With this view the first position of their expedition was in the nature of a survey by which they intended to locate the field in which to operate. The Irishman could not fail to see the necessity of caution and silence and leaving his more experienced companion to take the lead he followed him closely without speaking or halting. The way continued rough and broken being very difficult to travel at times but after they had trapped a considerable distance Mickey noticed that they were going downhill at quite a rapid rate and finally they reached the lower most level where the scout faced him. Do you know where you be? he asked in a significant tone. No horror be! repeated the Irishman in amazement. Who should I know as the Spalpeans always said after I knocked them down at the fair? What means of information have I? You've been over this part of four! continued the scout enjoying the perplexity of his friend. The latter scratched his head and looked about him with a more puzzled expression than ever. The only place it resembles in my mind is a hilly portion in the north of Ireland. Do you mean to say we've arrived there? This is the pass which you trained up and down on where you got into trouble. And don't look like any part that I ever observed. The way do you have such a hankering for this ravine in which we haven't been used very well? Use where the engines be, and use where we must look for houses! Mickey had not heard the slightest sound, but he imitated the action of the scout and dodged down in some undergrowth, which was dense enough to hide them from the view of any one who did not fairly trample upon them. They had crouched but a minute or two in this position when Mickey fancied he heard the tramp of a single horse approaching on a slow walk. He dared not raise his head to look, although he noticed that the shoulders of the scout in front of him were slowly rising as he peered stealthily forward. The experiences of the last few days had been remarkable in more than one respect. The two men had set out to secure a horse, neither deeming it probable that the one which was desired above all others could be obtained and yet, while they were crouching in the bushes, the very animal, the one which had been ridden by Mickey O'Roonie, walked slowly forth to view on his way up the ravine or pass. The most noticeable feature of the scene was that he was bestowed by an Indian warrior whose head was bent in a meditative mood. The red skin, so far as could be seen, was without a companion, the steed walking at the slowest possible gate and approaching a point which was no more than a dozen feet away. The instant Mickey caught sight of the warrior and recognized his own horse there was a slight movement on the part of the scout, the Irishman narrowly escaped uttering an exclamation of surprise and delight as he identified his property, but he checked himself in time to notice that Sut was stealthily bringing his gun around to the front with the unmistakable purpose of shooting the Apache. The heart of the Irishman revolted at such a proceeding. There seemed something so cowardly and thus killing an adversary without giving him an opportunity to defend himself that he could not consent to it. Reaching forward, he twitched the sleeve of Sut who turned his head in surprise. What is it you're driving at me, laddie? He whispered in return, darting his head toward the slowly approaching horseman, winking and blinking so significantly that it was easy to supply the words which were omitted. But why don't you go out and tell him what you intend so that he can inform his friends and bid them all good-bye? You need the thing to pop a man over in that stale without giving him a chance to meditate on the chances of his life, so be easy with him, Sut. The scout seemed at a loss to understand the meaning of his companion, whose waggery and drollery cropped out at such unexpected times that no one knew when to expect it. The Indian was approaching and was already close at hand. Keen eared, and with their senses always about them, the Patches are likely to detect the slightest disturbance. The scout glanced at the horseman and then at Mickey, who was in earnest. It's the only way to get the horse, you lunkhead, so we can keep the meat-trap sick. You don't want a horse if we got to murder a man to get the seam. We're the only way out here to treat an ingenious to shoot him the minute you see him. That's sensible. I don't want you to do it, said Mickey, so pleadingly that the scout could not refuse. Oh, keep still and don't interfere, and I promise here I won't slide him under unless he gets in the way and won't get out. All right, responded Mickey, not exactly sure that he understood him, but willing to trust one who was not without his rude traits of manhood. All this took place in a few seconds during which the Apache horseman had approached, and another moment's delay would have given him a good chance of escape by flight. As noiselessly as a shadow, the scout arose from his knees to a stooping position, took a couple of long, silent strides forward, and then straightened up directly in front of the startled horse and still more startled rider. The former snorted and partly reared up, but seemed to understand as if by an instinct that the stranger was more entitled to claim him than the one upon his back. Another step forward and the scout held the bridle in his left hand while he had dressed the astounded Apache in his own tongue, a liberal translation being as follows. Let my brother, the dog of an Apache, slide off that animal and vermoose the wrench, or I'll lift his heart quicker and lighten it. The savage deemed it advisable to slide. He carried a knife at his girdle and held a rifle in his grasp, but the scout had come upon him so suddenly that he felt he was master of the situation, so without attempting to argue the matter with him he dropped to the ground and began retreating up the ravine with his face toward his conqueror as if he mistrusted treachery. Our blessings go with you, said Mickey, rising to his feet and waving his hand toward the alarmed Apache. We don't want to harm you, and you may go in peace. There soot, he added, as he came up beside him. Be sure that Spalpin Marcy, when he scarcely had the right to expect it, and he will appreciate the seam. You're right, grunted the scout. He'll show you how he'll appreciate it the minute he gets a chance to draw a bead on to you, but you've learned that there are plenty of armaments in this section, and if we're going to get away with this horse, there ain't no time to lose. Up with you there and take the bridle. Mickey did as he requested, not exactly understanding what the intention was. Which is to be done, he asked, as the head of the animal was turned back over the route that he had just traveled, and led her right alone while you walked beside me. It's the idea for the presence those deceived the strength of the horse. A half mile or so up the pass is a trail which leads down into it. The Mustang can go over that like a streak of greased lightning, and there's where we'll leave the pass and make off through the woods and mountains till we can join in with the Junker and go it without trouble. A few words of hurried consultation completed the plans. As they were very likely to encounter danger, it was agreed that the scout should go ahead of the horseman, keeping some distance in advance and carefully reconordering the way before him, with the view of detecting anything amiss in time to notify his friend and prevent his running into it. There might come a chance where it would not be prudent for Sut Simpson to press forward, but where, if the intervening distance was short, Mickey might be able to make a dash for the opening in the pass and escape with his Mustang. The Apache, being unhorsed in the manner described, had fled in the opposite direction from that which they intended to follow. Of course he could get around in front and signal those who were there, of what was coming, provided the two whites were tardy in their movements, which they didn't propose to be. It required only a few minutes to affect a perfect understanding when the scout went a hundred yards or so ahead, moving forward at an ordinary walk, scanning the ravine, right, left, and in front, and on the watch for the first sign of danger. He had previously so located and described the opening by which they expected to leave the pass that Mickey was sure he would recognize at the instant they came inside of it. This was a rather curious method of procedure, but it was continued for a time, and the avenue alluded to was nearly in sight when Sut Simpson, who was a little further than usual in advance, suddenly stopped and raised his hand as a signal for his friend to stop. Mickey did so at once, holding the Mustang in check while he watched the scout with the vigilance of a cat. Sut never once looked behind him, but his long form gradually sank down in the grass, until little more than his broad shoulders in a coonskin cap were visible. The pass at that place was anything but straight, so that the view of Mickey was much less than that of the scout, and had it been otherwise, it is not likely that the former would have been able to read the signs, which were as legible to the latter as the printed pages of a book. But God, about that's own pleasant, muttered the Irishman to himself, we must be mighty close to the door, when some of the spell-peans stick up their heads and object to our gone-out. Be the powers, but they may object for all I care, I'm going to make a run for it. At this juncture the figure of the scout was seen approaching in the same guarded manner. Well, suit me, laddie, what do you make of it? There's a party of alarmants just beyond the place we meet to ride out. Well, what of that? You can lave the pass somewhere along here where there seem to be plenty of places that you can climb out, while I make a dash out of that and we'll meet again after we get clear of the spell-peans. There's a mighty whisk about it and you'll be luckier to get shouting than to be missed. I thought I'd eat, responded Mickey. I'm ready to take the chances in that kind of business. Lead on and we'll try it. They'll soon be dope and I'm getting tired of this fooling. Sut liked that kind of talk. There was a business ring about it and he responded, I go ahead and when it's time to stop I'll make you the signal. Keep watching my motions. Ten minutes later they had reached a spot so near the opening that Mickey easily recognized it. He compressed his lips and his eyes flashed with a stern determination as he surveyed it. The scout was still in the advance, proceeding in the same careful manner all his wits about him when he again paused and motioned the Irishman to stop. The latter saw and recognized the gesture, but he declined to obey it. He permitted his Mustang to walk on until he had reached the spot where Sut was crouching, making the most furious kinds of motions and telling him to stay where he was. Why didn't you stop when I tell you, bless you? He demanded angrily. Is that the place where he expected to go out? Asked Mickey without noticing the question as he pointed off the spot which he had fixed upon as the one for which they were searching. Of course it is, but what of it? You can't do anything there. I'll show you, my laddie. I'm going there as soon as my names Mickey O'Raney and me. You ain't going to try any such a thing if you do I'll bore you. But the Irishman had already given the word to his horse. The latter bounded forward, passing by the dumbfounded hunter who raised his rifle angered enough to tumble the reckless fella from the saddle. But of course he could not do that, and he stared in a sort of wondering amazement at the course of the Irishman. The latter, instead of seeking to conceal his identity, seemed to take every means to make it known. He put the Mustang on a dead run, sat bolt upright on his back, and such even fancy that he could see that his cap was set a little to one side, so as to give himself a saucy defiant air to whomsoever might look upon him. Scully, if he ain't a good rider, exclaimed the scout, anxious to assist him in the trouble with which he was certain to enviren himself, but he is riding to his death. There, what next? He's crazy. This exclamation was caused by seeing Mickey lift his cap and swing it about his head, emitting at the same time a number of yells such as no Apache among them all could have surpassed. Whoop, whoop, you bloody spell-peans, it's myself, Mickey or Rooney, that's on the warpath, and dare you cape any of the way, or there'll be some heads broken. Could madness further go? Instead of trying to avoid an encounter with the Apaches, the belligerent Irishman seemed actually to be seeking it, and there was no danger of his being disappointed. Certain of this, Sut Simpson hurried on after him for the purpose of giving what assistance he could in the desperate encounter soon to take place. Mickey was still yelling in his defiant way, with the long, blank figure of the scout trotting along in the rear, when one, two, three, fully a half dozen Apaches sprang from the ground ahead of the Irishman, and as if they divined his purpose, all began converging toward the opening which was the goal of the fugitive. But it would have made no difference to the latter if a score had appeared across his path. He hammered the ribs of his Mustang with his heels, urging him to the highest possible speed of which he was capable. Then he replaced his cap, added an extra yell or two, raised his rifle, and sighted best he could at the nearest Indian. When he pulled the trigger he missed the mark probably twenty feet, for it was a kind of business to which Mickey was unaccustomed. The Apaches threw themselves across his path in the hope of checking the Mustang so as to secure the capture of the rider, but the animal abated not a tittle, and strained every nerve to carry his owner through the terrible gauntlet. One of the Redskins, fearful that the fugitive was going to escape in spite of all they could do, raised his gun with the purpose of tumbling him to the ground. Before he could do anything he dropped his gun, threw up his arms with a howl, and tumbled over backward. Set Simpson was near enough at hand to send in the shot that wound up his career. By this time something like a sober second thought came to Mickey who saw that his horse comprehended what was expected of him, and needed no further direction or urging. He realized furthermore that he had, by the impetuous movement of the animal, thrown all his foes in the rear, and they being unmounted and anxious to check his flight were certain to give him the contents of their rifles. Accordingly he threw himself forward upon the neck of the steed, scarcely a second before the crack of the rifles were heard in every direction. The hurtling bullets passed fearfully near and more than once Mickey believed he was struck, but his horse kept on with unabated speed, and a minute after, thundered up the slope, and he and his rider were beyond the reach of all their bullets. Chapter 26 Lone Wolf's Tactics Mickey O'Roonie gave a yell of defiance as he vanished from view, horse and rider unharmed by the scattering of shots which followed them even after they were lost to sight. It was well and bravely done, and yet it would have failed altogether, but for the wonderful cunning and shrewd courage of Simpson who had kept close to the heels of the flying horse. It was when the crisis came, when the Apaches were closing around the fugitive and it seemed inevitable that he should reap the natural reward of his own fool-hardiness that Sut had acted. When the warriors were confident of their success he discharged his rifle with marvelous quickness and with a more important result than the mere tumbling over of his man. There was a momentary check, a sudden stoppage lasting but a few seconds when the foe rallied and made for the fugitive, but that brief interval of time was precisely what was needed, and it secured the safety of Mickey and his steed. It mattered not that Sut Simpson as good as threw away his life by his chivalrous act, he knew that full well while awaiting the opportunity as much as he did when he raised his faithful weapon and discharged it into the group. The moment the peace was fired he knew that his mission was accomplished and he began a retreat, moving stealthily and rapidly backward for the purpose of getting beyond the range of the Redskins before they should fairly recover from the escape of the horsemen, but events were proceeding rather too rapidly. Before he could cover any appreciable distance the baffled wretches turned upon him and it was flight or fight, or more likely both. The apaches were brave, they knew the character of the dreaded scout, and they were not desirous of rushing one after another to their doom. Sut was certain that if he should turn and run the howling horde would be at his heels. The instant there should appear any possibility of his escape they would all open upon him and it was impossible that any such good fortune should attend him as had marked the flight of Mickey. It was his purpose therefore to keep up his retreat with his face to his foe, forcing all to maintain their distance until he could reach the side of the ravine where possibly a sudden desperate effort might enable him to outwit the Redskins. The scout had not yet been given time in which to reload his peace, but the uncertainty whether it contained another charge prevented them from making an impetuous rush upon him. Besides, they knew that he carried a formidable knife, and like every border character he was a professor of the arts of using it. All at once it occurred to Sut that he might thin out his assailants by the use of his revolver. If he could drop three or four or more and then follow it up with a savage onslaught he believed he could open the way. He felt for the weapon and was terribly disappointed to find it gone. He recalled that he had given it to Fred Munson when he was left alone with the Mustang, so as he had nothing but his knife, he placed his hand upon the haft, glaring defiantly at his enemies while he continued walking slowly backward and gradually edging toward the side of the grove. But the Apaches were plenty in that latitude and the business had scarcely opened when three or four warriors commenced a stealthy approach upon the scout from the rear. He glanced hastily over his shoulder several times while slowly retreating to guard against this very danger, but the Indians seeing the point for which the fugitive was making ensconced themselves near it and waited. At the moment Sut placed his hand upon the knife he was within twenty feet of the three Indians crouching in the grass with no suspicion of their proximity. One of them arose to his feet, quietly swung a coiled lasso about his head, the distance being so slight that no great effort was necessary, and then with great dexterity dropped it over the head of the unsuspicious scout enclosing his arms when he jerked it taut with the suddenness of lightning. A few seconds only were necessary for Sut to free himself, but ere those seconds could be taken advantage of he was drawn over backward. The entire party sprang upon him and seized his gun and knife. "'Scout me if this don't look as though I'd made a slip of it this time,' muttered Sut as he bounded like lightning to his feet. "'When you run him and sender take a job of this kind you show that you ain't no flouches but have a good knowledge of the business.' As if anxious to deserve the complimentary opinion of their distinguished prisoner they coiled the lasso again and again about him until he was fastened by a dozen rounds and was no more able to contend against his captors than if he were an infant. As all the warriors recognized the prisoner their delight was something extraordinary. They danced about him in the most grotesque and frantic manner, screeching, yelling, and indulging in all sorts of tantalizing gestures and signs at Simpson who was unable to resist them or help himself. There was a certain dignity in the carriage of Sut under these trying circumstances. Instead of replying by taunts to the taunts of his enemies he maintained silence, permitting them to wag on to their heart's content. It was wonderful how rapidly the tidings of the capture spread. The hootings and yellings that marked the rejoicing of the party were heard by those who were further away and they signaled it to the warriors beyond. The Redskins came from every direction and within half an hour from the time Sut Simpson was lassoed there must have been nearly a hundred apaches gathered around him. These all continued their frantic rejoicings while as before the prisoner remained silent. His eyes were wandering over the company in search of Lone Wolf, their great leader, but that redoubtable chieftain was nowhere to be seen. Sut was certain that he was somewhere near at hand and must know of all that had happened on this spot. Did Simpson expect anything like mercy from the apaches? Not a whit of it. He had fought them too long, had inflicted too much injury, and understood them too thoroughly to look for anything of the kind. Besides, even if he was innocent of having ever harmed a Redskine, he would not have received the slightest indulgence at their hands. The apaches are like all the rest of their species in their inherent opposition to mercy on general principles. The afternoon was well spent and as a means of occupying his mind until his case was disposed of he set himself speculating as to what their precise intentions were. Being quite familiar with the apache tongue he caught the meaning of many of their expressions, but for a considerable time these were confined to mere exultations over his capture. The excitement was too great for anything like deliberation or concerted counsel. It may be the skunks are waiting for Lone Wolf. He muttered as he stood with his arms bound to his side. They wouldn't dare to do much without action him. Now I suppose they might sculpt any man whorever they got the chance to stop and ask questions. Hello, hither he comes! This exclamation was caused by the sudden turning of heads and a sort of hush that fell upon the group for the moment, close to the approach of someone on horseback. It was already so close to dusk that he could not be identified until he came closer, when Sut was surprised to find it was not the chieftain after all. It was a man altogether different in appearance, probably a subordinate chief who had performed some daring deed which had won him the admiration of his comrades. The indications, too, were that he brought some interesting news about something. That varmin has been away some whore, concluded Sut, carefully noting everything, and they expect him to tell them something worth hearing, and I guess they're about to erect, so I'll see what I can do in the way of listening myself. The scout was right in his supposition. The Indian was the avant curia of a party three or four times as great as that which had gathered about him in the ravine. His companions had separated and gone in other directions, while he, learning the course taken by his chief, Lone Wolf, had hastened to report directly to him. Sut Simpson suspected what all this meant. He saw a number of scalps hanging at the girdle of the Apache, and he had not listened long when his fears were more than confirmed. The embryo town of New Boston, planted in the valley of the Rio Pecos, was no more. Repulsed bloodily at the first, Lone Wolf had gathered together the best of his warriors, placed them under one of his youngest and most daring chiefs, and sent them forth with orders to clean out the settlement that had been planted so defiantly in the heart of their country. And now this chief had returned to say that the work had been completed precisely as commanded. I know that we're coming, muttered the scout. I told Aunt Marnwell that Lone Wolf would bounce him before he knew what the matter was, and I urged him to make for Fort Severn, which were only fifty miles away, and save their top knots. He did not say so, but I could see he thought all were a big fool, and now he's found out who the fool was. I wonder whether any of the poor cusses got away. There couldn't have been much chance. Don't do to ask this rooster, because he wouldn't be likely to answer me, and if he did, he would be certain to tell me a lot of lies. The young chief, having communicated his good tidings and exchanged congratulations with those about him, started his Mustang forward, heading him directly up the ravine or pass. This brought him within an arm's length of the scout who was standing mute and motionless. The red skin drew up his horse and stared fixedly at him, as if for the moment uncertain of his identity. I'm Sut Simpson, the man that has slain so many Apache warriors that he cannot number them, said the scout, with a view of helping the Indian to recognize him. There was no real braggadocio about this. As Sut could not hide his personality, the best plan for him was to make an open of owl backed up by a rather high-sounding vaunt. This was more pleasing to the Indians who were addicted to the most extravagant kind of expression. Rather curiously, the young chief made no reply. The observation of the prisoner seemed to have settled all doubts that were in his mind, and perhaps he was desirous of seeing lone wolf without any further delay. His steed struck into a rapid gallop and speedily vanished in the gloom, leaving the captive with the howling hundred. Sut was brave, but there was a certain feeling of disappointment that began to make itself felt. Although he would not have admitted it, yet the termination of the recent meeting with lone wolf had led him to hope not that the chieftain would liberate him, but that he would give him some kind of a show for his life, an opportunity, no matter how desperate, in which he might make a fight for his existence. He had spared lone wolf when he was at his mercy, refusing to fight the chief because he was so disabled that his defeat was assured. It would seem that the chief in return might offer the scout a chance to fight some of the best warriors, and such probably would have been the case with any set of people, except the American Indians. The absence of lone wolf impressed Sut very unfavorably. He believed the chief meant to remain away until after his important prisoner was killed. By the time night was descended the wild rejoicing in a great measure ceased. One of the Apaches started a fire and the others lent their assistance. A roaring, crackling flame lit up a large area of the ravine, revealing the figure of every savage, as well as that of the scout, who having grown weary of continual standing, seated himself upon the ground. Had Sut possessed the use of his arms he would have made an effort to get away at this time. A short run would have carried him to the place which he had in mind at the time he began his retreat. Without the aid of his hands, however, he was certain to be entrapped again, so he concluded to remain where he was, with the hope that something more inviting would present itself. The frontiersman never despairs, and although it was difficult to figure out the basis of much hope in the present case, yet Sut held on and determined to do so to the end. He made several cautious tests of his bonds, but the lariat of buffalo hide was wound around his arms so continuously and tied so well that the strength of twenty men could not have broken it. The exploit of cutting them by abrasion against a sharp stone, which he had once done, could not be accomplished in the present instance for reason that there was no suitable stone at hand, and he was under two strict surveillance, and so it only remained for him to wait and hope and hold himself in readiness. When the fire had crackled and flamed for a while the Apaches clustered in groups upon the ground where they smoked and talked incessantly. They seemed to be paying no attention to their prisoner, and yet they took pains to group themselves around him in such a way that if he should attempt flight he would be forced into collision with some of them. Sut was surprised that as yet no indignity had been offered him, as the Apaches had every reason to hate him with the very intensity of hatred. It would have been in keeping with their character to have made his lot as uncomfortable as possible. It'll come by and by. He sighed as the cramped position of his arms pained him. I don't know what they're waiting for. Maybe they want to get up such a high old time with me that they're writing out a program and have sent the New Orleans for a band of music. There's nothing like doing these things up in style, and I suppose lone wolf means to honor me in that way. At a late hour the moon rose and the light penetrated the ravine where the strange motley crowd congregated. The fire still burned and no one showed any disposition to sleep. By way of relief the scout lay over on his side and was looking up at the clear moonlit sky when he heard the tramp of horses and immediately rose up again. He saw the chieftain whom he had observed a few hours before as he came in with his news of the destruction of New Boston, accompanied by two others all mounted. They rode up in such a position that they surrounded the captive who was suddenly lifted by a couple of Apaches in place destroyed of the Mustang in front of the young chief. The next minute the quartet moved off. Scope me if I know what this means! muttered Sutt who felt uneasy over the new turn of affairs. Things are getting sort of mixed just now. He hoped that he would learn something of the purpose of the three Redskins from their conversation as they rode along but unfortunately for that hope they did not exchange a word. When they had ridden a fourth of a mile Sutt caught the flash of a knife in the chieftain's hand. The next instant it moved swiftly along his back and the larry it was cut in many pieces. The arms of the scout were freed, although for some minutes they were so benumbed that he could scarcely move them. What did all this mean? Fully another quarter of a mile was ridden in silence when the three halted and Sutt felt that the critical moment had arrived. The chief dismounted from the horse, leaving the scout seated thereon. One of the others reached over and handed him his own gun, while the third passed him back his long knife. Oh, if I'm to fight all three you sail in! called out Sutt gathering himself for a charge from them. They made no reply. The chief vaulted upon one of the other horses behind the warrior and as he did so a fourth figure advanced and leaped upon the other so that there were two Indians upon each Mustang. The scout scrutinized the newcomer as well as he could in the moonlight. Yes there was no mistake about his identity. It was lone wolf who remained as silent as the others. The heads of the Mustangs were turned down the ravine again and they struck into a gallop the sound of their hooves coming back fainter and more faintly until they died in the night. Sutt Simpson was free and free without a fight as he realized when he gave his horse the word and he dropped into an easy gate in a direction opposite to that taken by the Apaches. End of Chapter 26 Read by Thomas Rose Chapter 27 Of the Cave in the Mountain by Edward Ellis This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Chapter 27 The End Oh, that there little matter was settled without any hard words muttered the scout as he rode up the ravine. It ain't the way lone wolf generally manages them things but that affair me and him had when I took my house away from him, I suppose I had something to do with it. The scout had considerable cause to feel grateful and pleased over the turn of events. He had his horse and gun and it now only remained for him to rejoin his companions. He had already passed the point where Mickey O'Runy had left the ravine and he felt the impropriety of turning back and presuming upon any further indulgence of the Apaches. Accordingly, he slackened the speed of his Mustang until he reached an avenue of escape. He was forced to go quite a distance before finding one, but he did it last and turned his horse into it. I don't know whether that there Irishman can find the way back to where we left the younger but I suppose he'll try so I'll aim at the same point. The night was pretty well gone and his Mustang had struggled nobly until he showed signs of weariness and the scout concluded the wait until daylight before pushing his hunt any further. They were miles away from the Apache camp and he had no fears of disturbance from that quarter, so he drew rain in a secluded spot and sprang to the ground. At the very moment of doing so his horse gave a whinny which was instantly responded to by a whinny from another horse less than a hundred feet away. That's quare, muttered the scout as he grasped his rifle, while there's a horse in these parts there's generally a man and while there's a man you can set him down as an engine and as this can't be lone wolf I'll find out who he is. His own Mustang, being a strayer, he managed to tie him to a small scrubby bush after which he moved forward with caution and stealth in the direction whence came the whinny that had arrested his attention. His purpose was to prevent the other animal discovering his approach, an exceedingly difficult task as the Mustangs of the Southwest are among the very best sentinels that are known frequently detecting the approach of danger when their masters fail to do so. However, Sut succeeded in getting so close that he could plainly detect the outlines of the animal, which was standing motionless with head erect and his nose turned in the direction of the other Mustang as though he were all attention and on the lookout for danger. The scout paused to study the matter, for he did not understand the precise situation of things. The Mustang which he saw might be only one of a dozen others whose owners were near at hand with possible several searching for him. The conclusion was inevitable that it was necessary for him to reconnoitre a little further before allowing his own position to be uncovered. Before he could advance any further he caught sight of a man who moved silently forward between him and the horse where he could be seen with greater distinctness. He held his rifle in hand and seemed disturbed at the action of his horse, which was clearly an admonition for him to be on his guard. The scout studied him for a minute and then cautiously raised the hammer of his rifle. Guarded as was the movement the faint click caught the ear of the other who started and was on the point of leaping back when Sutt called out, Stop or I'll bore a hole through you! The figure did not move. Come forward and surrender! The form remained like a statue. Throw down that gun or I'll shoot! This brought a response which came in the shape of a well-known voice. Not will I have the spirit of a man left, as my uncle observed when his wife commanded him to come down from a tree that she might pummel him? How are you, old boy? The scout had suspected the identity of his friend from the first and had made the attempt to frighten him from the innate love of the thing. The two grasped hands cordially and were rejoiced beyond measure at this fortunate meeting. Mickey explained that he had not been scratched by a bullet, nor had his horse suffered injury. It was a most singular escape indeed, but no more singular than that of the scout himself who had received mercy at the hands of lone wolf, who had never been known to be guilty of such a weakness. It had been a providential deliverance all around and the men could not be otherwise than in the best of spirits. The next thing is to hunt up the younger, said the scout as they sat upon the ground discussing the incidents of the past few days. I'm a little troubled about him because we've been away longer than we expected and some of the varmints may have got on his trail. How far from this place do you reckon him to be? That's powerful hard to tell, but it can't be much less than a mile and that the good ways in such hilly country is this. You can't get over it faster and you can run. But you know the way far as I understand you to remark. The scout signified that he would have no more trouble in reaching it than in making his way across a room. They decided, though, that the best thing they could do was to wait where they were until daylight and then take up the hunt. They remained, talking and smoking for an hour or two longer, neither closing their eyes and slumber, although the occasion was improved to its utmost by their animals. The scout was capable of losing a couple of nights rest without being materially affected thereby, while Mickey's experience almost enabled him to do the same. As soon as it was fairly light the two were on the move, sot leading the course in the direction of the spot where they had left Fred Munson the day before, and which he had vacated very suddenly. They were picking their way along as best they could when they struck a small stream, when the scout paused so suddenly that his comrade inquired the cause. That's quire, powerful quire, he said, looking down at the ground and speaking as if to himself. One horse has been long higher, and I think it were mine, and that he had that yunker on his back. Which way was the young spout-peen traveling? The scout indicated the course and then added in an excited undertone. It looks to me as if he got scared out and had to leave, and it ain't no ways likely that anything would have scared him short of engines, to which time we joined him. The Irishman was decidedly of the same opinion and the trail was at once taken. Be the powers, do you mind that? demanded Mickey in an excited voice. Man, what! asked the scout, somewhat startled at his manner. Just look yonder where ye— As he spoke he pointed up the slope ahead of them. There, but a comparatively short distance away, was Fred Munson, in plain sight, seated upon the back of his Mustang, apparently scrutinizing the two horsemen as if in doubt as to their identity. The parties recognized each other at the same moment, and Fred waved his hat, which salutation was returned by his friends. The scout motioned to him to ride down to where he and Mickey were waiting. He's off the trail altogether, and if he keeps on that course he'll fetch up in New Orleans or Galveston, he added by way of explanation. The lad lost no time in rejoining them, and the trio formed a joyous party. Not one was injured. Each had a good swift horse and a weapon of some kind, and was far better equipped for a homeward journey than they had dared to hope. There's only one thing to make a slight delay, said the Irishman after pretty much everything had been explained. His friends looked to him for an explanation. I received notice from me family physician in London this morning that it was dangerous when in this part of the world to travel in an empty stomach. All three felt the need of food, and Sut considered the spot where they were as good for camping purposes as any they were likely to find, so they dismounted, and while Mickey and Fred busied themselves in gathering wood and preparing the fire, the scout went off in search of game. Day you mind, called out Mickey, that you mustn't return until you bring something we ye. I'm so hungry that I'm not particular. A bio-depatial answer, if you can't find anything else. If he gets anything, said Fred, we must make a way with all we can and try to eat enough to last us two or three days. That's what I always do at each meal, promptly replied his friend. There's nothing like being prepared for emergencies, as me cousin Butto Norgogon remarked when he presented the gal he was courting with a set of teeth and a wig, which she didn't nade any more than does me horse out there. A scout returned before he was expected, and with a super abundance of food, which was cooked and fully enjoyed, and as speedily as possible they were mounted and on the road again. The travelling was exceedingly difficult, and although they struck the main pass near noon and put their horses to their best speed, yet it was dark when they succeeded in clearing themselves of the mountains, and reached the edge of the prairies, which stretched away almost unbrokenly for hundreds of miles. They saw Indy in several times, but did not exchange shots during the day. It was not a general rule with Sut Simpson to avoid an encounter with Redskins, but he did it on the present occasion on account of his companions and especially for the lads' sake. A safe place for the encampment was selected, the mustangs so placed that they would be certain to detect the approach of any enemies during the night, and all laid down to slumber. Providence, that had so kindly watched over them through all their perils, did not forget them when they lay stretched helpless upon the ground, the night passed away without molestation, and making a breakfast from the cooked meat that they had preserved, they struck out upon the prairie in the direction of New Boston. They had scarcely started when a party of Indians, probably Comanches, saw them and gave chase. The pursuers were well mounted, and for a time the danger was critical as they numbered fully twenty, but the mustangs of the fugitives were also fleet of foot, and at last they carried them beyond all danger from that source. As the friends galloped along at an easy pace, Sut Simpson struck them with horror by telling them the story of the massacre which he had heard discussed among the Apaches when he was a prisoner. All were anxious to learn the extent of the horrible tale, and they pressed their steeds to the utmost. The sight of the town was reached late in the afternoon when it was speedily seen that the young chief had told the truth. New Boston was among the things of the past having actually died while in the struggles of birth. The unfinished houses had been burned to the ground, the stock run-off, and most of the inhabitants massacred. The fight had been a desperate one, but when lone wolf sent his warriors a second time they were resistless and carried everything before them. If any of them got away they reached Fort Severn, said the scout who was impressed by the evidences of the terrible scenes that had been enacted here within a comparatively few hours. Well, I don't think there's much chance. The remains of those who had fallen on the spot were so mutilated and in many cases partly burned that they could not be recognized. Among the wreck and ruin of matter were discovered a number of shovels. The three set themselves to dig a trench into which all those remains were placed and carefully covered over with earth. We'll take a shovel alone, said Sutt as he threw one over his shoulder and sprang upon his horse. We'll be likely to find the need for it before we reach the fort. This prediction was verified. As they rode along they constantly came upon bodies of men and women whose horses had given out or who had been shot while fleeing for life. In every case the poor fugitives had been scalped and mutilated. They were gathered up and tenderly buried with no headstone to mark their remains, there to sleep until the last trump shall sound. Fort Severn was reached in the afternoon of the second day. There were found just six men and two women, the fleetness of whose steeds had enabled them to win in the race for life. All the others had fallen, among them Caleb Barnwell, the leader of the chaotic scheme and the founder of the town which died with him. The Valley of the Rio Pecos was not prepared for any settlement unless one organized upon a scale calculated to overall all combinations of the Apaches, Comanches, and Kaowas. From Fort Severn Mickey O'Roonie and Fred Munson under the escort or rather guidance of Sut Simpson made their way overland to Fort Albury where Mr. Munson, the father of Fred, was found. The latter thanked heaven for the sickness which had detained him and could not fully express his gratitude for the wonderful preservation of Mickey and his son. Sut Simpson, the scout, was well paid for his services and bidding them good-bye he went to his field of duty in the southwest while Mr. Munson, Mickey, and Fred were glad enough to return east. End of Chapter 27 End of The Cave in the Mountain by Edward Ellis Read by Thomas Rose