 CHAPTER XI. The moon was high in the sky and as it was near midnight O'Roonie, who had taken upon himself the task of guiding the Mustang, continued him on up the ridge directly toward the spot where Fred had lain so long, watching the action of the Apaches gathered around the opening of the cave. The Mustang walked along quite obediently, seeming to feel the load no more than if it was only one half as great, but those animals are like their native masters, cunning and treacherous, ready to take advantage of their riders whenever it happens to come in their way. Which is the reason I cautioned you to be ready for a fall, said Mickey, after referring to some of the peculiarities of these steeds of the south-west. The minute he gets it into his head that we ain't paying attention, he'll rear up on his forefeet and walk along that way for half a mile. Not having any saddle, we'll have to slay it over his neck, unless I can brace me feet against his ears and ride a long stand and street up. The constant expectation of being flung over the head of a horse is not the most comforting sensation that one can have, and the lad clung fast to his friend in front, determined not to go unless in his company. Upon reaching the top of the ridge, the horse was rained up for a few minutes as Mickey, like the mariner at sea, was desirous of taking an observation so as to prevent himself going astray. Can you remember how you were placed? asked the lad after he had spent several minutes in the survey. That is, do you know which way to go for the horse you left eating grass? Oh, was a little puzzled at first, as my father observed to the school teacher when he said I had been a good boy. But I see how it is now. It must have been that I got a little turned round when I was dawn in the basement of these mountains. But I see how it is now. Right yonder, he added, pointing toward the northwest, is where I left my horse, and there is where I hope I'll find him again. Is the road so that we can ride the Mustang all the way there, or must we walk? I remember I'll come right along some kind of a path made by animals after live in the baste. I suppose it's the route taken by the creatures and going to the water, for there's a splendid spring right there, and the path that I was just telling you about leads straight to it. Then keep the horse from throwing us off, and we're all right, after we find your horse, Mickey, or don't find him, what are we to do then? Sit seal for New Boston? But we can't ride through these mountains if we don't find the pass. And the seam is what we're going to do, barren that it hasn't been lost yet. Are you sure you know the way to it from where you left your horse? I've been hunting for it for hours, but couldn't any more tell where it was than the man in the moon. What course would you have to take to reach it? Right off yonder," replied Mickey, pointing to the left. And I was sure it was here," said Fred, pointing his hand in nearly an opposite direction. Which, to say, is good reason why you're wrong. When you get lost and think you're on the right way, you may be sure that you're wrong, enough to figure in the whole thing over and getting certain of the right course. All you've got to do is not to take it, and you're certain of saving yourself." Then, according to that, you ought not to take the route which you said is the right one. I'm speaking for lost spell-pains like yesif," said Mickey severely. I haven't been lost since I parted company with Soot Simpson, and by God or that means me that we ought to say something of him. Just look round and observe whether he is standing anywhere, bicking into us. Both used their eyes to the extent of their ability, but were unable to discover anything that bore a suspicious resemblance to a man. So far as they could judge, they were entirely alone in this vast solitude. Do you expect to meet Soot very soon? Of course I do. Why shouldn't I? But he went another way from you all together after Lone Wolf. That's just it. He went another way and went wrong, and he has been gone long enough to find out the same. And he will turn back and follow you? As soon as he finds he's wrong, he'll go right. And as I went right, he'll be on my heels. But you know both of us have strayed a good deal off the track, and we have traveled in many places where we haven't made the slightest trail. How is he going to follow us, then? The Irishman gave utterance to a scornful exclamation. I've been with that Soot Simpson long enough to learn something. I've seen some specimens of what he can do. Rocks don't make no difference to him. When he gets on the track of a wild bird, if it don't take extra pains to dodge and double, he'll follow its trail through the air. Oh, he's there all the time, and the wonder with me is that he hasn't turned up before? What would he have done? Had he come along and found us both in the cave in the Apeaches watching, he would have tracked that wolf back to his hole, come in and fetched us out, and then slipped up behind the six and tumbled them all in like so many tinpins. If he's such a wonderful man as that, it's a pity we couldn't have kept him with us all the time, and if we do run against him, we can afford to stop thinking about Apeaches as they will be of no account. Yes, all right. But the trouble is to find him, as the man said when the British government condemned John Mitchell and him thousands of miles away in America. This tramping about at night in the mountains isn't the easiest way to discover a man, and it's him that will have to find us instead of we him, but we'll keep it up. If the Apache Mustang which they were riding meditated any mischief, he seemed to be of the opinion that the occasion was not the most suitable. He walked along with great docility and care, picking his way with a skill that was wonderful. Several times they approached places where it seemed impossible for an equine to go forward, but the horse scarcely hesitated, toiling onward like an alpine shammy until at last they drew up in a small valley through the middle of which ran a small stream that sparkled brightly in the moonlight. Here we are, said Mickey. Here's the spot where I left my creature a couple of days ago and where I don't see him just now. Use your eyes a bit and tell me whether you observe him. Fred was scarcely less anxious than his friend to recover the steed, for recalling his experience in that line he had good reason to mistrust Indian horses. It would be very awkward when they should find a party of Apaches howling and rushing down upon them to have the animal turn calmly about and trot back to his former friends, carrying his two riders into captivity or leaving them to shift for themselves. Nothing could be seen of the creature, but there was a fringe of wood on the opposite side where he might be concealed and Mickey slid off the blanket with the intention of hunting for him. Don't let this sparpin give you the slip, he cautioned the lad as he gave the lariat into his hand, but if mine is gone this is the only one we have to depend on and we can't spare him. Fred felt a little uncomfortable when he found himself alone and astride of the fiery steed which pricked up his ears as though he meditated mischief, but the horse seemed to think better of it and continued so quiet that the young rider ventured to transfer his attention from him to Mickey who was moving across the open space in the direction of the wood upon the opposite side. The moonlight was so clear that he could be as plainly seen almost as if it were midday. As he moved along, he brought his rifle around to the front so that he could use it at a moment's need for he could not but see the probability that if his horse had been lately disturbed it was likely that those who did so were still in the vicinity and no place was more likely to be used for a covert than that same patch of timber which he was approaching. Be the powers but it looks a little pokersheep, he said to himself, slowing his gait and surveying the wood with no little distrust. It might be a dozen of the sparpeen's sleep in there with one eye open or all sitting up and expecting me. He had proceeded so far, however, that it was as dangerous to turn back as it was to go on for if any enemies were there they were so close at hand that they could easily capture or shoot him before he could reach his horse. He was scarcely moving and doing his utmost to penetrate the deep shadow when, beyond all question, he heard a movement among the trees. He paused as if he had been shot and cocked his rifle looking toward the point from whence came the noise. Easy there now, he said in a solemn voice. I won't stand any of your tricks. I'm savage and when I'm that way I'm dangerous so if yous are there, spake out or else come out like a man and tell me your name. Be the token of which mine is Mickey O'Roonie from Ireland. This characteristic summons produced no response and feeling the peculiar peril of his exposed position the Irishman determined upon changing it and securing the shelter of a tree for himself. It was not prudent to move directly toward the spot which gave forth the rustling sound as that would be likely to draw out a shot from a foe if he desired to avoid a personal encounter. Accordingly, the Irishman made what might be termed a flank movement by turning to the right, running rapidly several paces and then diving in among the trees as though he were plunging into the water for a bath. The few minutes occupied in making this change were those which Mickey felt were of great danger, for if he should reach the wood and find himself opposed to but a single man or even two, the situation would not be so uneven by any means. No shots were fired and he drew a great sigh of relief when he gained the desired covert. No, I can dodge back and forth and work me way up to him, he concluded, and when they stick their heads out from behind the trees I'll whack them for them just as we used to do at Donnybrook when the fun began. He waited where he was for some time in the expectation that his foe would reveal himself by an attempt to draw out, but if there is any one thing which distinguishes a scout, whether white or red, at such a time it is his patience. It is like that of the Eskimos who will sit for sixteen hours without stirring beside an air-hole in the ice waiting for a seal to appear. Mickey O'Roonie was not burdened with over much patience and acted upon the principle of Mohammed going to the mountain. He began picking his way through the shadows and among the trees, determined to keep forward until the mystery was solved. End of Chapter 11 Read by Thomas Rose Chapter 12 Of the Cave in the Mountain by Edward Ellis This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 12 Through the Mountains Continued When Mickey found himself under the shelter of the trees, something like his old confidence returned. As I observed some minutes ago, it's myself that's not going to stand any fooling, he added loud enough for the Redskins to hear. Whether you there or not, you ought to speak, and come out and smoke the caramel of peace and give a spalpin a chance to crack your head as though you're his brother, but if you're up to any of your tricks, make ready to go to your hunt and grounds. By this time he was within a dozen feet of the spot whence came the rustling that so disturbed him, and was staring with all his eyes in quest of the Redskins. In spite of the bright moonlight, the Irishman could not be certain of anything he saw. There were trees of large size behind any of which an Indian might have shielded himself effectually, and it was useless for Mickey to look unless his man chose to show himself. The Irishman had all the natural recklessness of his race, but he had been in the Apache country long enough to learn to tone it down, for that was the country where the most fatal attribute a man could have was recklessness or rashness. In many instances of conflict with Indians, it is worse than cowardice. But in the face of Mickey's assurance to the contrary, he did not feel altogether easy about the Apaches he had left at the cave. His humanity had prevented him from depriving them of means of escape, and although he was inclined to believe that they were not likely to climb the lasso until many hours should elapse, there could be no certainty about it. They might do so within an hour after the departure of the man and boy. It was this reflection that caused Mickey to act with something of his natural rashness. He felt that he could not afford to wait to fight the thing out on scientific principles, so he determined, since he was so close, to force it to an issue without delay. Accordingly, he prepared himself to charge. I've been too kind already and given your warnings, he added, gathering himself for the effort, and if your indifference causes your ruin, it's your own fault, as the bull remarked when he came down on a butt again the engine. Compressing his lips, Mickey made his start, forcing out a few words as he could shoot bullets on the way. Nobody but a spattle-peen of a coward would keep out a sight when he saw a head coming down on him in such tempting style as mine. I can't understand how he could. In his furious hunts for antagonists, the belligerent fellow did not think of looking upon the ground. He made the blunder of Captain John Smith of the Jamestown Colony, who, in retreating from Powhatan's warriors, became mired, with the eventual result of making Pocahontas famous and securing an infinite number of namesakes of the Captain himself. Mickey O'Roonie had scarcely begun his charge when his feet came into violent collision with the body upon the ground, and he turned a complete somersault over it. Be the powers, but that's a darty trick, he exclaimed, gathering himself up as hurriedly as possible and recovering very speedily from his natural bewilderment. A man who drops in the ring without a blow is always ruled out, and be that token you're not entitled to that respective, elegant gentleman. During the utterance of these words, the Irishman had carefully returned, boiling over with indignation and fight, and at this juncture he discovered the obstruction which had brought him to grief. So far as appearances went, there was no Indian nearer than the cave. It was his own horse that had made the noise which first alarmed him. While the equine was stretched upon the ground, peacefully sleeping, his bump to his owner in charging over his body had stumbled and fallen. Mickey was thrown all in a heap for a minute or two when he found how the case stood, and then he laughed to himself as he fully appreciated the situation. Well, well, well, I feel as cheap as Jerry McConnell when he hugged and kissed a gale for two hours one evening and found it was his wife, and she felt chaper yet for she thought all the time that it was Mickey O'Shaughnessy. I suppose, me old sweetheart, he added as he stooped down and padded the head of his horse, that you've been living so high here for two or three days that you're too fat to be good for anything. Come up, widya, old spalpeen. The Mustang recognized the voice of his master and obeyed as promptly as a child, coming upon his feet with the nimbleness of a racer and ready to do what he was bidden. Mickey led him out into the moonlight when he left him standing while he went a short distance for the saddle and bridle which he had concealed at the time of leaving the spot. They were found, just as he had left them, and he returned in high feather, secured them in a twinkling upon his animal and galloped back to where the lad was waiting. You haven't seen or heard anything of redskins, have you, while I was procuring my creature? Nothing at all, replied the lad, but I heard you talking pretty loud, so I suppose you must have found several. Now, answered Mickey, who did not care about explaining the whole affair, I'm always in the habit of exchanging a few words with the creature when I'm mate, since such was the case a short time since when I met him after being a wee so long. Well, Mickey, we haven't any time to spare. You're right, Milady. All you've got to do is follow me. With this he headed his Mustang at precisely right angles to the course they followed in making their way to the spot in Fred, who expected all sorts of trouble in the way of traveling, noticed that he was following some sort of path or trail, along which his horse trod as easily as upon the open prairie. While this was an advantage in one respect, it had its disadvantage in another. The presence of a trail in that part of the world implied that it was one mate and traveled by Indians who were likely to be encountered at any moment, and Mickey was not insensible to the peril. But in the present instance there seemed to be no other means of getting along, and thus, in one sense, they were forced into it. The probabilities, however, were that they would soon emerge into safer territory, where it would be possible to take some precautions against pursuers. For some time the two galloped along without speaking. The hooves of their Mustangs rang upon the rocks and rattled over the gravel, and in the still night could have been heard a long distance away. While the Irishman kept as good a look out ahead as possible, Fred Munzen did his best to guard their rear. He kept continually glancing over his shoulder in expectation of seeing some of their enemies, but nothing of the kind occurred, and before he anticipated it, they emerged into what seemed a deep valley with high rocks upon both sides. Mickey drew up and allowed his young friend to move alongside. "'Do you mind ever having seen this place before?' he asked. "'I don't remember anything about this country, and all I ask is that we may get out of it as soon as possible. But don't you mind ever having been here before?' Thus questioned, Fred scanned his surroundings as best he could, but there was nothing that he could identify, and he so said, adding, "'I'm sure I've never been here before, and I'm sure you have. This is the path that lone wolf come along, that you was hunting for when you got lost and fell into the beastman's story of the mountains.' "'Oh, this is the path, is it?' exclaimed the delighted lad. Then we have a clear road before us straight to New Boston. Clear of all but one thing. What's that?' "'The red-spiled peas. They're always turning up when you don't expect them and don't want them.' "'How far are we away from the cave where we left the half dozen of panties?' "'I don't think it's much more than a mile, though it may be a mile and a half.' "'Well, that's very good. We've got that much start, and it's worth having.' "'And there's where your mistook, as the girls used to absolve when anybody tried to run down my beauty. The path that we came along, you'll mind, makes many turns and twists, and the individual is that it strikes the pass on the other side of the cave, and we've got the ride right by the spot which we left. This was not cheering information, although everything considered the two had caused to congratulate themselves upon their extraordinary success up to this time. The night was about gone, and while their mustangs halted, they observed that it was growing light in the east. They would be forced to ride through the dangerous territory by day so that the risk of detection would be proportionately greater if their enemies should be in the vicinity. Both the mustangs were fresh and vigorous, however, having enjoyed an unusually long rest with plenty of food, and they were good for many hours of speed and endurance. The one ridden by Fred had behaved in a very seamly fashion, and there was ground for the hope that he would keep up the line of conduct to the end. Still, there could be no certainty of what he would do in the presence of the Apaches. We'll take it easy, said Mickey as the two started off in an easy gallop. We'll not be after putting them to a run till we have to do the same, so that when there's nade for their speed we shall have it at command. This prudent suggestion was carried out. Their horses dropped into a sweeping gallop that was as easy as an ordinary walk. The riders kept their senses awake, talking only a little, and then in guarded voices. As they galloped along, the sun rose, and the day promised to be as warm and pleasant as those which had preceded it. The sky was obscured only by a few fleecy clouds while the deep blue beyond was as beautiful as that of Italy. Drawing near the cave in the mountain, they pulled their horses down to a walk and carefully guided them into the softest places so as to make the noise of their hooves as slight as possible. Nothing occurred until they were a short distance beyond the dangerous spot when Mickey spoke. Do you observe that stream there? he asked, pointing to a rather deep brook which ran across the pass and lost itself in the rocks upon the opposite side. We are that's the water that comes through the cave over the cascade and that I expected to swim out by, and I am going to find out what me chances were. CHAPTER XIII. IN THE NICK OF TIME. Leaving his Mustang in charge of Fred, the Irishman turned to the right and followed the stream into the rocks. The course was so winding that he speedily disappeared from sight. The boy, who was compelled to sit still and await his return at perhaps the most dangerous portion of the road, felt anything but comfortable over the erratic proceeding of his friend. But fortunately the latter had been gone but a short time, when he reappeared, hurrying forward as if somebody was at his heels. It's all right, he remarked, as he sprang into the saddle, took up the reins and started on. I think the Apaches are there, though I can't be certain, but I found out what I wanted to learn. Then he explained that he followed up the stream to the place where it came from beneath the rocks which formed a part of the wall of the cave where a curious fact attracted his attention. In its passage beneath the stone the tunnel widened and flattened so that where it shot forth into the sunlight again its width was some twenty feet and its depth only a few inches. The appearance it presented was very much like that of the gates of a mill-pond when they have been slightly raised to allow a discharge of water beneath. Through the passageway thus afforded no living person could have forced his way and had Mickey Elrune attempted it nothing in the world could have saved him from drowning. The Irishman himself realized it and was thankful enough that he had refrained from making the desperate attempt. The two continued their sweeping gallop for several hours during which they did not catch a glimpse of Indians, but they were alarmed by hearing the reports of guns at no great distance on the right. The firing was irregular, sometimes several shots being heard together and then they were more of a dropping character. This showed that a fight of some kind was going on, but as to its precise nature they could only conjecture. It might be that a party of Comanches and Apaches or Kiowas or Hunters were enjoying a hot time, but the two friends were glad to get out of the neighborhood as speedily as possible. At noon they enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that they had made good and substantial progress on the way home. There was an abundance of grass and water and when the sun was overhead they went into camp. I'm as hungry as a panther that has been fastened for a month, said Mickey, as he dismounted, and I haven't got a mouthful of food lift. There ain't any use of a chap starving to death to accommodate anybody else, and now you don't mean to do the same. Fred Munson's hunger was scarcely less than his, but the boy would have been willing to have undergone still more, rather than incur the risk that was now inevitable. But Mickey saw nothing to be gained by such a course and contended that they should give their attention to the wants of their bodies before they were weakened by fasting and fatigue. Mickey promised not to be absent long and then started in search of Provender. Game was abundant in that part of the world and he was confident that much time would not be required to bring down some toothsome dainty. He has an uncomfortable way of running off and leaving a fellow alone, muttered Fred, as he watched the vanishing figure of his friend. I haven't anything but my revolver and only two shots left in that. And it seems to me that this is about the worst place we could stop. The point where they camped was in the pass, which at that point widened considerably. The right wall curved far inward in a semicircular shape, the opposite remaining the same, the gorge looking as if an immense slice had been scooped out of its northern boundary. The rocks on every hand ranged from a dozen to a hundred feet in height with numerous openings through which a horseman could easily pick his way. The tops were covered with vegetation, the greater portion of which was vigorous and dense. Fred found himself standing in an immense amphitheater as one can imagine how the gladiators of Rome stood in the Colosseum when an audience of over a hundred thousand were seated and looking down upon them. He could not but note the helpless situation a party of men would be in if caught where he was. If a company of United States cavalry should camp here, and the Indians opened on them from the rocks above, they would have to stand and be shot down one after another or else run the gauntlet and be picked off in the same way. The appearance of the ground showed that the spot was a favorite camping site of the Indians. Fred, for a time, suspected that it was the place where Lone Wolf and his band had spent the first night out from New Boston, but an examination showed that it did not correspond in many points. The remains of charred wood, of bleaching bones and ashes, proved that many a campfire had been kindled, and in all probability every one of them had warmed the shins and toasted the food of the red cutthroats of that section. The two mustangs were tethered near one side of the space where there was grass and water, and the lads set about it to select a proper place in which to build a campfire. There was no trouble in determining this, but when he started to gather wood he was surprised to discover that there was much less than he supposed. The former tenants of the place had cleared it up pretty thoroughly. There is plenty of wood over yonder, he said to himself, looking in the direction taken by Micky O. Rooney, and where there is so much growing there must be some upon the ground. I'll go over and gather some and have the fire all ready when he comes back. It was quite a walk from where he stood to the side of the semicircular widening of the pass, and as he went over it he was surprised to find it greater than it appeared. When he picked his way between the rocks and began clambering among the trees and vegetation he concluded that he was fully two hundred yards from where the mustangs were grazing. However he did not allow himself to lose any time in speculation and wonderment, but set to work at once to gather wood with which to kindle a fire in readiness for the return of Micky. There was enough around him to afford all he needed, and he was engaged in leisurely collecting an armful when he was startled by the rattling of the leaves behind him. The wood was dropped on the instant and the alarmed lad wheeled about to face his new danger. Instead of two or three Indians as he had anticipated he saw an enormous grisly bear about a dozen feet in the rear and coming directly toward him with very little doubt of his purpose. Fred had no thought of anything of this character and for a time he was paralyzed with terror unable to speak or stir. These precious seconds were improved by the huge animal which continued lumbering heavily forward toward the boy. Bruin had his jaws apart and his red tongue lolling out while a guttural grunt was occasionally heard as if the beast was anticipating the crunching of the tender flesh and bones of the lad. Before the latter was within reach however he had recovered his usual activity and with a bound and a yell of terror Fred started in the direction of the clearing where he had left the Mustangs and where he intended to kindle the campfire. But the enormous, bulky creature although swinging along in his awkward fashion still made good speed and gained so rapidly upon the boy that he almost abandoned hope of escape. At this critical moment Fred thought of his revolver and he whipped it out in a twinkling whirling about he took quick aim and discharged both barrels almost in the face of the brute and flinging the pistol against his leather nose he turned back and continued his flight at the utmost bent of his speed. Both bullets struck the brute and wounded him but not fatally nor indeed enough to check his advance. The grisly bear as found in his native wilds is killed with extreme difficulty and the only thing that seemed to affect the monster in the present instance was the flash of the pistol in his eyes. He paused and rearing on his hind legs snorted, snuffed, and potted his nose as if the bullets were splinters which he was seeking to displace. Then with an angry growl he dropped on all fours and resumed his pursuit of the author of his confusion and hurts. The wounds incensed the brute and he plunged along at a faster rate than before gaining so rapidly that there could be no doubt as to the result. Being without any weapon at all there seemed but one hope for Fred and that was to reach his Mustang in time to mount and avail himself of his speed. For a hundred feet or so he ran down a rapid slope between the trees and rocks until he reached the camping site where he had a run of a couple of hundred yards across a comparatively level plain to reach the point where his animal was awaiting him. In going down this wooded slope the smaller size of the boy gave him considerable advantage, yet so well did the grizzly succeed that he reached the spot less than twenty feet in his rear and heading directly for him at once proceeded to decrease the distance still further. This placed the question of escape by superior speed upon the part of the lad as among the impossibilities and it began to look very much as if his race were run. At this juncture as if all the fates had combined against him Fred while glancing backward over his shoulder stumbled and fell. He sprang up as hastily as possible but the loss of ground was irreparable. As he looked back he saw that the colossal beast was so close that it seemed that one sweep of his paw would smite the terrified fugitive from the face of the earth. It was a critical moment indeed and the crack of the rifle from the wood which the pursuer and pursued had just left was not a breath of time too soon. Aimed by one who knew the vulnerable points of such a creature and by someone whose skill was unsurpassed the leaden messenger crashed its way through bone and muscle to the seat of life. The brute which was ready to fall upon and devour the young fugitive pitched heavily forward and rolled upon the ground in the throes of death. Fred did not realize his delivery until he had gone some distance further and looked back and saw the black mass motionless upon the ground. After some hesitation he then turned and walked distrustfully back to where it lay. He found the beast stone dead, a reel of blood from beneath the foreleg showing where someone's bullet had done the business. The lad recalled the sound of the gun which had reached his ear. That was the best shot for me that Mickey ever made. He muttered looking around for his friend. But he was nowhere to be seen. Mickey must always have his fun, added Fred after failing to detect him. Instead of coming out at once and letting me know how he came to do it, he fires the lucky shot and then waits to see how I will act. My gracious, he is a bouncer! This last remark was excited by the carcass which he kicked and which shook like a mountainous mass of jelly and as he passed around it he gained a fair idea of the immense proportions of the bear in whose grasp he would have been as helpless as in that of a royal Bengal tiger. But he came mighty close to me. When I fell down I expected to feel his paws on me before I could get up. In a few seconds more it would have been all up with me. Several minutes passed and nothing was seen of the Irishman whereupon the lad concluded he might as well go back and gather the wood which would be needed at the campfire. I wonder if there's any more of them, he muttered as he began picking his way among the rocks. If there are, why Mickey must look out for me. He found the sticks, just as he had thrown them down, and he proceeded to regather them, keeping a careful watch for another dangerous visitor. All remained quiet, however, and making his way down the wooded slope into the open area he looked back and found that he was still alone. So it continued until he returned to where the two mustangs were tethered. There he carefully adjusted the sticks and prepared everything after which he began to feel some impatience at the non-appearance of his friend. He must see more fun in that kind of thing than I do. There's no telling what has become of those six apaches we left down in the cave. I feel sure that they've got above ground again. It won't take long for them to find their mustangs or some other horses and they may be a mile away. And there may be other parties close by. Hello? Fred thought that he had no matches about his person, but he was making a sort of aimless hunt when he found a solitary Lucifer at the bottom of his pocket. This he carefully struck against the rock behind him and in a few minutes the campfire was started and burning merrily. As he sat down to wait he looked toward the point where the Irishman had vanished from sight. There he was, bearing on his shoulders some choice sections of a young antelope he had shot, although Fred recalled that he had not heard the report of his gun, except when the grizzly was shot. As Mickey came along over the same path taken by the boy he was forced to make a detour around the carcass of the bear. He paused to survey it, his whole manner betraying great astonishment as if he had never beheld anything of the kind. He walked around the body several times, punched it with his foot, and finally grasping his twenty pounds of meat in his right hand approached the campfire. Here he had once began the preparations for broiling it. The antelope had been of goodly size and he had cut out the most luscious portions so as to avoid carrying back any waste material. He had a great deal more than both could eat, it is true, but it was a commendable custom with the Irishman to lay in a stock against emergencies that were likely to arise. While thus employed it would have been impossible for Mickey to hold his tongue. But Goddard, but it was queer was the same the way I came to catch this gentleman. I hunted him a little ways when he made a big jump and I thought had got a long ways off. But when I came to follow him I found he had cornered himself among the rocks where there was no show of getting out except by coming back on me. The minute I showed myself he made a rush for me arms just as all the party gals in Tipperary used to do when I came along the street. An antelope can't do much, but I don't care about their coming down on me and that style and so I pulled up and let drive. He was right on me when I pulled the trigger and he made one big jump that carried him clear over my head and landed him stone dead on the other side. That was a good shot. But not as good as when you brought down the grizzly bear at my heels. Mickey O'Roonie was particularly busy just then with his culinary operations and he stared at the lad with an expression of comical amazement that made the young fellow laugh. But Goddard, why didn't you talk since? added Mickey impatiently. I've heard soot simpsons see that if you only put your shot in the right spot you don't want but one of them to trip the biggest grizzly that ever navigated. I was going to observe that you had been mighty lucky to send in your two pistol shots just where they settled the business, though I suppose they hathen was so close on you when you fired that you almost shoved the weapon into his carcass. I shot him, Mickey, before I fairly started to run, but he didn't mind it any more than if I spit at his face. It was your own shot that did the business, beyond shot, repeated Mickey, still staring with an astonished expression. I never fired any shot at the beast. I never saw him till a few minutes ago when I was coming this way. It was Fred Munson's turn to be astonished and he asked in his amazed wondering way, Who then fired the shot that killed him? I didn't. I thought you did the same, thought I was not myself. The lad was more puzzled than ever. He saw that Mickey was in earnest and was telling him the truth and each, in fact, understood that he had been under a misapprehension as to who had slain the grizzly bear. The beast was right on me, continued Fred, and I didn't think there was any chance for me when I heard the crack of a rifle from the bushes and looking back saw that the bear was down on the ground making his last kick. Mickey let the meat scorch, while he stopped to scratch his head, as was his custom when he was in a mental fog. The garter, but that is, queers me mother used to observe when she found she had not been desaved by believing what we chilled her told her. There was somebody who was kind enough to knock over the grizzly at the most convenient season for ye, and then he doesn't choose to send over his card with his post office address on. Who do you think it was, Mickey? There must have been some red-spalping that took pity on you. Who knows, but it was Lone Wolf himself. Both looked about them in a scared, inquiring way, but could see nothing of their unknown friend or enemy as the case might be. I tell you, Mickey, that it makes me feel as if we ought to get out of here. Yeah, right, and we'll just swirly some of this stuff and then we'll light out. He tossed the latter goodly-sized piece of meat which, if anything, was overdone. Both ate more rapidly than was consistent with hygiene, their eyes continually wandering over the rocks and heights around them in quest of their seemingly ever-present enemies, the Apaches. It required but a few moments for them to complete their dinner. Mickey, in accordance with his custom, carefully folded up what was left, and taking a drink from the stream which ran near at hand, they sprang upon the backs of their mustangs and headed westward in the direction of New Boston, provided such a settlement was still in existence by the grace of Lone Wolf, leader of the Apaches. No, said Mickey, whose spirit seemed to rise when he found himself astride of his trusty Mustang again. If we don't have any bad luck, we ought to be out of the mountains by dark. And after that, then a good long ride across the prairie and we'll be back again with the folks. How glad I am that father isn't here, that he stayed at Fort Aubrey, for when he comes along in a few weeks he won't know anything about this trouble till I tell him the whole story myself, and then it will be too late for him to worry. Yes, I'm glad it so. For at same as if I had a spell-pain of a sign off with Lone Wolf among the mountains, I'd feel as bad as if he had gone in swimming where the water was over his head. And then it'll be so nice to sit on and tell the old gentleman about it and have him lambast you, because you wasn't more respectful to Lone Wolf. All them things are cheerful and make the occasion very pleasant. Bagara I should like to know where that old red skin is, for Sootsimson tells me that he is the greatest red skin down in this part of the world. He's the spell-pain that robbed a government train and made himself a big blanket out of the new green becks that he stole. Soots says that there isn't room on his lodge pole for half the scalps that he's taken. Bad luck to the spell-pain. He will peel the topknot from the head of a lovely woman or sweet child such as I used to be as quick as he would from the crown of a man of my size. He's an old reprobate as the same, and Soots says he can never die resigned, and at pace with all mankind until he shoots him. I'll be very glad to keep out of his way if he'll keep out of mine. I wonder why he didn't kill me when he had the chance instead of keeping me so long. I suppose he meant to carry you up where his little spell-pains live and turn you over to them for their amusement. How can I amuse them? There'd be a good many ways. They might have stuck little wooden pigs in your hide and set fire to them and then walk you around for fireworks. Or they might fill your ears with powder and titch it off and then watch the elegant expression of your countenance. Or they might have set you to run and up and down between two rows of them, about eight or ten miles long while age stood with a big shalele in his hand and banged you over the head with it as you passed. There'd be a good many ways, according to what Soot told me, but that's enough to show you that own wolf and his folks wouldn't have been at a loss to find delightful ways of giving the little children the innocent sport they must have. I shouldn't think they would if that's the kind of fun they like, replied the horrified boy. I've thanked the Lord hundreds of times that he helped me get out of lone wolf's clutches, and my dread is that he may catch us before we can get out of the mountain. I don't believe we could find as good a chance as I did the other night. You're right. That thing couldn't happen again. Lightning doesn't strike to each in the same place, but we've got good horses, and if he don't pin us up in the past I think our chance is as good as could be asked. That's what troubles me, said Fred, who was galloping at his side and who kept continually glancing from the tops of the rocks upon the right to the tops upon the left. You know there are Indians all over, and I wonder that some of them haven't seen us already. I suppose they do, and they're behind us. They can signal to somebody ahead, and the first thing we know, they've got to shut in on both sides. That thing may happen, replied Mickey, who did not appear as apprehensive as his young friend, but I have the best of hopes that the seam won't. I don't think lone wolf knows where anywhere around here and before he can find out. I also hope we shall be beyond his reach. CHAPTER XIV Mickey had scarcely given utterance to this hopeful remark when he drew up his Mustang with a spasmodic jerk and exclaimed in a startled voice, Do you see that? As he spoke he pointed some distance ahead, where a faint, thin column of smoke was seen rising from the top of the rocks on the opposite side of the canyon or pass. It will be remembered that the pass of which our two friends availed themselves is the only one leading through the section of mountains which lies to the eastward of the Rio Pecos. That part over which Fred and Mickey were riding showed numerous winding trails made by the hoofs of horses as they passed back and forth, bearing Apaches, Comanches, Kiowas, and very rarely white men. At no very distant intervals were observed human skeletons and bones while they were scarcely ever out of sight of the remains of horses or wild animals, all of which told their tale of the scenes of violence that had taken place in that highway of the mountains. Sometimes war parties of the tribes mentioned encountered each other in the gorge and passed each other in sullen silence, or per chance they dashed together like so many wild beasts, fighting with the fury of a thousand Kilkenny cats. It was as the whim happened to rule the leaders. The rocks rose perpendicularly on both sides to the height of fifty and a hundred feet, the upper contour being irregular and varying in every manner imaginable. Along the upper edge of the pass grew vegetation, while here and there, along the side, some tree managed to obtain a precarious foothold and sprouted forth toward the sun. The floor of the canyon was of a varied nature, rocks, boulders, grass, streams of water, gravel, sand, and barren soil alternating with each other and preventing anything like an accurate description of any particular section. A survey of this curious specimen of nature's highway suggested the idea that the solid mountain had been rent for many leagues by an earthquake, which having opened this great seam or rent, had left it gradually to adjust itself to the changed order of things, and to be availed of by those who were seeking a safe and speedy transit through the almost impassable mountains. Mickey and Fred checked their mustangs and carefully scrutinized the line of smoke. It was several hundred yards in advance on their left, while they were following a trail that led close to the right of the canyon. They could distinguish nothing at all. They could give any additional information. The fire which gave rise to the vapor had been kindled just far enough back to cause the edge of the gorge to protrude itself in such a way as to shut it off from the eyes of those below. Indeed, it was not to be supposed that those who had the matter in charge would commit any oversight which would reveal themselves or their purpose to those from whom they desired to keep them. That is the same as the campfire which troubled the three Apaches so much, and which was the means of my giving them the slip. It must have been started by some other war-party so that their calculations were upset, and you had a chance to get away during the musk. It was a sort of free fight, you see, in which instead of staying and getting your head cracked, you stepped down and left. Unable to make anything of this particular signal fire, the two friends carefully searched for more. Had they been able to discover one in the rear, they would have been assured that signalling was going on, and they would not have dared to venture forward. Here and there, along the sides of the canyon, were openings or crevices generally filled with some sort of vegetable growth, and into most of which quite a number of men could have taken refuge, but which, of course, were inaccessible to their horses. I can't find anything that resembles the seam, said Mechie, alluding to the campfire, though there may be some one that is seen by the genton men who are cooking their shins by on one. Will it do to go on? It won't do to do anything else. Like enough the spell-peen yonder has absorbed us common, and he knows that there's a party behind us in being unable to do anything himself. He stirts up a fire so as to scare us and turn us back into the hands of the spell-peens coming in our rear. Find, I see, that such me be the case, but I ain't sure that it is. I shouldn't wonder a bit now if that isn't it exactly, said Fred, who was quite taken with the ingenious theory of his friend. It seems to me that the best thing that we can do is to ride on as fast as we can. We've got to run the risk of it being all rung and fetching up in the bosom of the spell-peens, but it's mighty sure we don't make anything by standing here. The Irishman turned his horses near the middle of the canyon as possible. Fred kept close to his side, his Mustang behaving so splendidly that he gave him his unreserved confidence. The average width of the pass was about a hundred yards, so it will be understood that if a detachment of men were caught within it, they would be compelled to fight at a fearful disadvantage. The plan of Mickey and Fred, as they discussed it while riding along, was to keep up the moderate gallop until close upon the fire. They would then put their animals to the highest speed and pass the dangerous point as speedily as possible. They felt no little misgiving as they drew near the dangerous place and they continually glanced upward at the rocks overhead, expecting that a party of Indians would suddenly make their appearance in open fire. The first plan was, as they drew near, to run in as close as possible beneath the rocks on the left in the belief that as they overhung so much the Indians above could not reach them with a shot. But before the time came to make the attempt, it was seen that it would not do. Accordingly, Mickey, who had maintained a line as close as possible to the center of the canyon, suddenly sheared his Mustang to the right until he nearly grazed the wall there, and he put him on a dead run, Fred Munson doing the same, with very little space between the two steeds. A few plunges brought them directly opposite the signal fire and every nerve was strained. Both beasts were capable of magnificent speed and the still air became like a hurricane as the horsemen cut their way through it. Fred glanced upward at the crest of the rocks on the left and fancied that he saw figures standing there preparing to fire. He hammered his heels against the ribs of his Mustang and leaned forward upon his neck in the hope of making the aim as difficult as possible. Still, no reports of guns were heard, and after continuing the terrific gait for a quarter of a mile they gradually decreased it until it became a moderate walk and the riders again found themselves side by side. Both had looked behind them a dozen times since passing the dangerous point but had not obtained a glimpse of an Indian. I thought I saw a number just as we were opposite, said Fred, but if so what has become of them? Yet didn't observe any at all, for I kept reason me eye that way and there weren't there. The whole thing is a moiety puzzle, as our teacher used to remark when the sum in addition became so big that he had to sit down one number and carry another. The spout pains must have manufactured that fire for our benefits and where's the good that it is doing them? Can't it be that it was for something else? Can't it be that they took us for Indians or perhaps they haven't seen us at all and don't know that we've passed? It does seem as if something of the kind might be, and yet that don't strike me as the Indian style of doing business. They continued their moderate pace for quite a distance further, continually looking back toward the campfire, the smoke of which continued to ascend with the same distinct regularity as before, but nothing resembling a warrior was detected. Finally a curve in the gorge shut out the troublesome signal, and they were left to continue their way and conjecture as much as they chose as to the explanation of what had taken place. A little later, and when the afternoon was about half gone, they reached a portion of the pass which was remarkably straight, so that the eye took in a half-mile of it from the beginning to the point where another turn intervened. The two friends were galloping over this exact section and speculating as to how soon they would strike the open prairie when all their calculations were knocked topsy-turvy. A party of horsemen charged around the bend in front, all riding at a sweeping gallop directly toward the alarmed Mickey and Fred, who instantly halted and surveyed them. A second glance showed them to be Indians, undoubtedly Apaches, and very probably Lone Wolf himself and some of his warriors. We must turn back, said the Irishman, wheeling his horse about and striking him into a rapid gate. We've got to have a dead run for it, and I think we can win. Holy Saints, preservus! This ejaculation was caused by seeing at that moment another party of horsemen appear directly in their front as they turned on the back trail. Thus they were shut in on both sides and fairly caught between two fires. End of Chapter 14 Read by Thomas Rose Chapter 15 Of the Cave in the Mountain By Edward Ellis This Librivox recording is in the public domain Chapter 15 On the Defensive At the moment of raining up their mustangs the fugitives were about equidistant between the two fires and it was just as dangerous to advance as to retreat. For one second the Irishman meditated a desperate charge in the hope of breaking through the company that first appeared in his path and had he been alone or accompanied by a man he would have done so. But slight as was his own prospect of escape he knew there was absolutely none for the boy in such a desperate effort and he determined that it should not be made. Can't we make a dash straight through them as Fred reading the thought of Mickey as he glanced from one to the other and noted the fearfully rapid approach of the Redskins. That can't be done replied the Irishman. There is only one thing left for us. What is that? Do as I do. Yonder is an opening that may serve us for a while. As he spoke he slipped off his steed leaving him to work his own will. Fred did not hesitate a moment for there was not a moment to spare. As he sprang to the ground he pulled the beautiful Apache blanket from the back of the mustang that had served him so well. Dragging that with him the two hurried to the right making for a wooded crevice between the rocks which seemingly offered a chance for them to climb to the surface above, if in the order of things they should gain the opportunity to do so. Mickey O'Roonie as a matter of course took the lead and in a twinkling he was among the gnarled and twisted saplings, the interlacing vines and the rolling stones and rattling gravel. As soon as he had secured a foothold he reached out his hand to help his young friend. Never mind me, I can keep along behind you, go as fast as you can. Let me have the blanket," said Mickey, drawing it from his grasp. No, come ahead, for we have got to go it like monkeys. He turned and bent to his task with the recklessness of despair for even in that dreadful crisis he thought more of the little fella than he did of himself. If he could have been assured of his safety he would have been ready to wheel about and meet his score or more of foes and fight them single-handed as Leonidas and his band did at Thermopylae. But the fate of the two was linked together and sink or swim it must be fulfilled in company. The narrow wooded ravine in which they had taken enforced refuge was only three or four feet in width, the bottom sloping irregularly upward at an angle of forty-five degrees. So long as this continued, so long could they maintain their laboring ascent to the top. Mickey had strong hopes that with the advantage of the start they might reach that point far enough in advance of their pursuers to secure some other concealment that would serve them until nightfall when they could steal out and try their chances again. The saplings growing at every inclination afforded them much assistance as they were able to seize hold with one or both hands and thus help themselves along. But the vines in many places were of a peculiar running nature and they frequently caught their feet and stumbled, but they were instantly up and at it again. All at once Mickey, who was scarcely in arms length in advance, halted so abruptly that Fred ran plump against him. Why don't you go on? asked the panting lad. OK, here's the end. So it was indeed. While pressing upward with undiminished effort, the Irishman found himself suddenly confronted with a solid perpendicular wall of rock, the narrow chasm or fissure, terminated. It was like a fugitive, his heart beating high with hope checked in his flight by the intrusion of the great Chinese wall across his path. Mickey looked upward. As he stood, he could without stretched arms touch the wall on his right and left, and kick the one in front, the only open route being in the rear which was commanded by the Apache Party. As he did so, he saw through the interstices of the interweaving, straggling branches the clear blue sky with the edge of the fissure fully forty feet above his head. His first hope was that some of the saplings around him were lofty enough to permit him to use them as a ladder, but the tallest did not approach within a half-dozen yards of the top. They were shut in on every hand. The councilman any farther, said the Irishman after a hasty glance at the situation, we are caught as fairly as ever was a mouse in a trap, and it now remains for us to pig away and go under doing the best we can. Have you your pistol? Yes, I picked it up again after throwing it in the face of the grizzly, but it isn't loaded, and then it ain't of much account, as me mother used to say in her affectionate references to me father. But if one of the spattle-penes happens to come on to you too sudden-like, you might scare him by shoving that into his eyes. I have got the powder for the same, but the bullets won't fit it, so I'll have to do the shooting. They were at bay, and the Irishman was right in his declaration that they could do nothing but fight it out as best they might. The question of further flight was settled by the trap in which they were caught. They paused, expecting to hear the tramp of Indians behind them, but as it continued quiet Mickey ventured upon a more critical inspection of their fortress, as it may be termed. He found little which has not already been mentioned, except the fact that the wall on their left sloped inward as it ascended to such a degree that the width at the top was several feet less than at the bottom. This was an important advantage, for in case they were attacked from above, it was in their power to place themselves beyond the immediate reach of a whole war-party by any means of their command. Do you hear anything? asked Mickey, bending his head to listen. They were silent a few minutes, during which the occasional tramp of a horse's hoof was noted. Beyond a doubt the entire war party of Apaches were at the mouth of the fissure, and probably a number had already entered it. They haven't tried to rush in pale mill head over heels, added Mickey after they had stood thus a short time, but they are sneaking along just as they always do when they're on the track of a gentleman. How soon do you think they will be here? asked Fred, who had recovered his breath, and who began to feel something like a renewal of hope, faint though it might be at the continued silence of their foes. Can't say, Milady, but they may come many minutes, and we must keep eyes and ears open and be ready to do the last act in style. Don't you mind that we're very much in the scene fixed that we was when caught in the cave, barren that we're worse off here than we were there? If someone should let a lasso down from the top we might claim up just as we did there, but that's one of the things that ain't likely to happen. Suppose we creep back a ways to see what the Indians are doing, ventured Fred, who was puzzled at the silence of their enemies which had now continued for some time. No need a door, not just yet. They'll let us know what they're at and what they mean. At that juncture the Irishman detected a movement among the wood and undergrowth of the ravine, and his rifle was at his shoulder like a flash. Fred understood, or rather suspected, the cause of the trouble, though he saw nothing. Only a few seconds he laughed when the trigger was pulled. The sharp crack of the weapon had scarcely broke the stillness when the shriek of a warrior was heard only a few feet away, followed by a threshing of the vines and vegetation, as the comrades of the slain brave caught and hurriedly dragged him back toward the greater ravine beyond. Ah, teach him to be more respectful in the treatment of a gingerman, remarked Mickey, who had recovered something of his natural recklessness and was reloading his gun with as much sang Freud as though he had just dropped an antelope and wished to be ready for another that was expected along the same path. Fred had detected the rustling movement among the shrubbery made by the red skin and stealing upon them, but he saw nothing of the savage himself and was not a little startled when his friend fired so quickly and the result was so manifest. If the victim of this rather hastily fired shot was unable to appreciate the lesson from its having a too personal application to himself, his companions appreciated it fully. It taught them that the way of pursuit was not open and undisputed by any means, and the few who were hurrying forward rather rashly were not only checked but forced backward. Matters for the moment were brought to a standstill. They'll be back again, added Mickey after reloading his piece, and as they mean to have our top-knots as the hunters see, we'll wipe out as many as we can before they get them. And now, me laddie, will you allow me to make a suggestion? What is it? That you keep a little more out of rage. If one of the spell-penes creep up and shoots you did, you'll be sorry you didn't take me advice when you come to think the matter over coolly. Here's a sort of boulder which seems to have carried in from above. Do you squeeze in behind that? And what will you do? Asked Fred, acting upon his advice. Being as there isn't room to squeeze in with you, I'll take my stand a little out here where I can secure the prediction of a similar piece of masonry in where the spell-penes can't get by me without giving the countersign and showing a pass. The lad did not specially like this arrangement as it really retired him, but their quarters were so cramped that they had to dispose of themselves as best they could. He was obliged to feel that practically he was of no account, as his only pistol had become useless hours before. Accordingly he forced himself in behind the boulder pointed out and found that his position was safe against any treacherous shot from the front. He was uneasy, however, about the open space above him, for it struck him that it would be so easy for any of their foes to roll the rocks down upon their heads. When he came to examine the situation more critically, he was not a little relieved to find that he was protected by the sloping wall already mentioned. A heavy stone heaved over the opening above might really weigh a ton and come crashing downward with terrific force, but no skill could at the start cause its course to be such as to injure the lad. He therefore concluded that his friend Mickey was not unwise in placing him in such a refuge. CHAPTER XVI. FRIEND OR ENEMY. It can scarcely be said that either of the fugitives had any definite hope of escape for neither was able to see how the thing was possible. Mickey knew that occasionally in the affairs of the world seemingly providential interferences had occurred, but he looked for nothing of the kind. He considered that there would be a siege lasting perhaps several days, then a desperate hand-to-hand struggle, and then. The summary manner in which the Irishman disposed of the first Apache who showed himself brought matters to a standstill. In this condition they probably would have remained but for the Irishman himself who saw nothing to be gained by inaction. Turning his head, he whispered to Fred, "'Do you keep quiet, Milady, until my return? I am going to take a look around.' The boy offered no objection, for he knew it would not be heeded and Mickey moved away. It required the greatest care to pick his way down the fissure as the stones and gravel were liable to turn under his feet and betray his approach, and it was much easier to go forward than backward. The fissure which had afforded this temporary refuge was about fifty feet in length, and the vegetation was so thick that at almost any portion the view was no greater than three or four yards. Mickey was in constant expectation of encountering some of the Apaches at every step he took, and in accordance with his principle of hitting a head whenever he saw it he held his rifle so as to fire on the very instant the coppery face presented itself to view. But he saw none, and as he advanced he began to believe that the place was entirely free of the Apaches who, if prudent, would quietly wait on the outside until their prey dropped into their hands. It was not to be supposed that they would leave any opening on the outside by which the most forlorn chance could be obtained, and Mickey had no thought of any such thing. If he had, it would have been dissipated by the evidence of his own ears. He could hear distinctly their peculiar grunting voices, the tramp of their mustangs, and the evidence which a score of Indian warriors might be expected to give of their presence when they had no reason for concealment. It may be that the smell beans mean to make a rush upon me, he muttered as he halted near the end of the fissure, in which case I shall have a delightful employment in cracking their pates as they come up and take their turn. He remained where he was a few minutes longer, and seeing no prospect of learning anything additional he resumed his advance until he reached a point where it was only necessary to draw the branches slightly apart to gain a view of the main ravine, and this he proceeded to do in the gentlest and most cautious manner possible. The view was satisfactory as it showed him that the Apaches were gathered at the entrance to the fissure and were taking matters very coolly and philosophically. Several were on horses and a number on foot. Among the mustangs moving about, the Irishman recognized his own, a stride of which was a dirty-looking Apache with a wide mouth and a broken nose. Your old spalpeen, muttered the indignant Irishman, if it wasn't for fear of spoiling your wonder for booty, I'd turn your summer sets off that hustle-mine, which I shall have to whitewash after getting him back on account of your contact with the seam. Mickey was strongly tempted to send a bullet after the tantalizing horse-thief, but he thought he could wait a while. He was extremely cautious in making his stealthy view, only moving enough leaves to permit the service of his eyes, and he had not enjoyed this prospect long before he believed that he had been detected. Of the twenty odd members comprising the Apache Party, about a dozen were constantly in view, the others being too far to the right or left to be seen. The group was an irregular and straggling one, the most interesting portion being five or six who stood close together exactly at the base of the fissure, talking with each other. It was impossible that there should be more than one subject of discussion, and the dispute, as Mickey suspected, was as to the precise method of disposing of the job which had been placed in their hands. Some evidently favored a daring chard directly up the narrow ravine with its short fierce encounter in sure victory. Others had a different plan, and their gestures led the eavesdropper to suspect that they advocated reaching them from the roof, while it was apparent that there were those who insisted upon waiting until the fruit should become ripe enough to fall into their laps without shaking. There could be little doubt that the Apaches preferred to take both prisoners instead of shooting or tomahawking them in a fight. They were under the inspiration of Lone Wolf, who believed that a live man was much more valuable than a dead one. While Mickey was watching this group with an interest which may be imagined, he noticed that a short, thick, greasy, filthy warrior was looking directly towards him with a steadiness which caused the Irishman to suspect that his presence was known. The Indian, like all of them, was as homely as he could be. He too had gone through an attack of smallpox which had left his broad face so deeply pitted that it could be noticed through the very colored paint which was dubbed thereon. There was scarcely any forehead, the black piercing eyes were far apart, and when Mickey saw them turn toward him he felt anything but comfortable under their fire. I wonder whether he would keep mum if I should dip him the wink, thought Mickey, who suffered the leaves in front of his face to close, until there was just the smallest space through which he could watch his man. The latter acted very much as if he suspected the proximity of the Irishman even if he was not assured of it. He continued looking directly at the point where the eyes of the white man peered out upon him, and by and by he raised his arm and pointed in the same direction, saying something at the same time to a couple of the warriors near him. They, the powers of that, doesn't mean me, as my friend Lerio Tool said when the judge asked for the biggest rascal in court. I'll have to retire. At this juncture a strange occurrence took place. Mickey O'Roonie was looking straight at the man. When he saw him fling up his arms, yell and pitch forward to the ground while the group instantly scattered as if a bombshell had dropped at their feet. Just a second previous to this strange death, Mickey heard the report of a rifle, showing that the warrior had been shot by someone at quite a distance from the spot, which shot at the same time caused a temporary panic among the others. Well, well, now, if that doesn't bait everything, exclaimed the amazed Irishman, just as I was thinking of raising my gun to give that spell-pain as walking papers, upstip some gentleman and seize me the trouble. But who was the gentleman, is the question? The inexplicable occurrence naturally recalled Fred Munson's adventure with the grizzly bear. When he needed assistance most sorely, the shot was fired that saved his life. Could it be that the same party had interfered in the present instance? There was plenty of ground for speculation, and the Irishman was disposed to believe that the diversion came from some small party of Kiowas or Comanches who had a special enmity against this company of Apaches and who, being too weak to attack them, took this means of avenging themselves. It was unsafe, however, to count upon the well-aimed shot as meant in the interest of the Whites, although the one that brought down the grizzly bear could not have been meant for anything else than a direct help to the imperiled lad. The Southwest has been noted for what are termed triangular fights. A party of Americans have been driven at bay by an overwhelming number of Mexicans or grizzers who have suddenly found themselves attacked by a party of howling Comanches. The latter have scattered the Mexicans like chaff, the Americans acting the part of spectators until the route was complete when the Comanches turned about and sailed into the Americans. The Kiowas, Comanches, Apaches, Mexicans, and Americans afforded just the elements for a complication of guerrilla warfare in which matters frequently became mixed to a wonderful degree. The hand that had fired this shot against a mortal foe of Mickey O'Roonie might be turned against him in the next hour, who could tell? If that gentleman begins the searing need from the other side, it's meboned in duty to cape it up from this, concluded the Irishman, as he cocked his rifle and awaited his chance. It was not long in coming. Only a few minutes had passed after the shot when a couple of Apaches walked rapidly into view and approaching the remains of their comrades stooped down to carry him away. Mickey allowed them to get fairly started when he blazed away at the foremost and had the satisfaction of seeing the rear Apache not only deprived of his assistance, but his duty suddenly doubled. The warrior, however, stuck pluckily to the work and dragged both out of view without any assistance from those who were ready to rush to his help. These two, or rather three, rifle shots produced the strongest kind of effect upon the Apaches. They could not well fail to do so, for they were not only fired with unearing aim, but they came from such diverse points as to show the Redskins that instead of having their enemies cooped up in this narrow ravine they had in one sense placed themselves between two fires. Hurriedly reloading his rifle, Mickey waited several minutes, determined to fire the instant he got the chance with the purpose of enhancing the demoralization of the Wretches. But they had received enough to teach them caution and as the minutes passed they failed to expose themselves. They had taken to shelter somewhere and were not yet ready to uncover. When Mickey had waited a considerable time, he concluded to rejoin Fred Munson, who no doubt was anxious over the result of his reconnaissance. When he returned, he found him seated upon the boulder instead of behind it. The Irishman hastily explained what had taken place and added, I don't know what they will do next, but we've give the spalpenes a dose that will keep them in the background for a while. No it won't either, was the significant response. What do you mean, Melody? I mean that the Apaches, or some of them anyway, have changed their base. I've heard something overhead that makes me sure they're up there getting up to some kind of devil-tree. CHAPTER XVII A Fortunate Diversion Mickey O' Rooney had not thought of the opening over their heads since the firing of his rifle-shot, and he now started and looked upward as if fearful that he had committed a fatal oversight, but he saw or heard nothing to excite alarm. Where are they? he asked in a whisper. They're up there. I've seen them peep down more than once. What were they peeping for? I supposed to find out where we were. Be the pears, but I showed them what I was when I fired me gun. That may be, but you didn't stay there, and perhaps they were looking for me. Did they find you? I don't think they did. You know I was in behind the boulder with my head thrown back so that it was easy for me to look up, and there wasn't enough branches and leaves over my head to shut out my view, so I lay there looking up, watching and listening, when I saw an Indian peep over the top there as though he was looking for us. Did you see more than one? I am sure there were two, and I think three. There didn't actually any question. I didn't hear any. What do you suppose they mean to try? I thought they meant to find out where we were hiding and then roll stones down on us. They can do that, you know, without our getting a chance to stop them. F. we squeeze in under that seam, please, said Mickey, indicating the inward slope of the rock that can't hit us. But I don't believe that such is their intention. What do you suppose it to be? That's hard to say, but these varmints ain't ready to shoot us just yet. Laced ways they don't want to do so, until they're sure there ain't anything else left for them to do. They wish to make us prisoners. That's it exactly. Well, if they're willing to wait, they'll be sure to have us for there isn't any water here for us to drink, and we can't get along without that. The Irishman suddenly slapped his chest and side as though he missed something from the pocket. And be the pears, he exclaimed, I've lost that mate, and there must have been enough to last us awake or two. How could you have lost that? asked Fred, who was much disappointed, and must have slid out when we were riding so hard or else when we lift our horses. Are you sure it wasn't lost somewhere among these trees where we can get it again? But he was confident that such was not the case, and he was not disposed to mourn the loss a great deal. They could do longer without food than they could without drink, and he was of the opinion that this problem would be solved before they were likely to perish from the want of either. Had you got a fair look at any of the spoiled pains that were so ill mannered as to peep down on you? Yes? And there was what? Sh! There he is now. The two peered upward through the leaves, and saw the head and shoulders of an Apache who was looking down into the ravine. He was not directly above them, but a dozen feet off to the left. He seemed to be trying to locate the party that had fired two such fatal shots, and therefore could not have known where he was. The face of the Indian could be seen very distinctly, and it was one with more individual character than any Mickey had as yet noticed. It was not handsome, nor very homely, but that of a man in the prime of life with a prominent nose, a regular contour of countenance for an Indian. The face was painted, as was the long black hair which dangled about his shoulders, his eye was a powerful black one which flitted restlessly as he keenly searched the ravine below. Not seeing that which he wished, he arose to his feet and walked slowly along and away from where the fugitives were crouching. That is, his face was turned toward the main ravine, or pass, while he stepped upon the very edge of the fissure, moving with a certain deliberation and dignity as he searched the space below for the man and boy whom he was so anxious to secure. I wonder if he ain't the leader, Mickey said in a whisper. I never saw a better stayer than that. I should think he was the leader, don't you know him? How should I know him? I never traveled much an Indian society, a year in him acquainted. He's lone wolf, the great war chief. You don't say so, exclaimed the astonished Irishman, staring at him. He's just the Spalpeena loaded me gun for, and here goes. Softly raising the hammer of his rifle, he lifted the weapon to his shoulder. But before he could make his aim certain, the red scamp stepped aside and vanished from view. That's enough to break a man's heart, wailed the chagrin, Mickey, why he wasn't the Spalpeena thoughtful and kind enough to eat until I could have made certain of him. But sorrow and disappointment to eat us all, as Barney Mulligan said when his friend wouldn't fight him. Maybe he'll show himself again. Whether or not lone wolf learned of the precise location of the parties for whom he was searching can only be conjectured, but during the ten minutes that Mickey held his weapon ready to shoot him at sight he took good care to keep all together invisible. The Irishman was still looking for his reappearance when another singular occurrence took place. There was a hoop, or rather a howl, followed by a fall of a warrior who was so near the edge of the narrow ravine that when he came down a portion of his body was seen by those below. The dull and rather distant report of a gun told the curious story. The same rifle that had picked off one of the Apaches at the mouth of the Fisher had done the same thing in the case of one at the top. The aim in both instances was unerring. Freddy Millad, said Mickey a moment later, when we rushed in here with the spell-peen snapping at our heels, I hadn't any more hope that we'd ever get clear of him than the man who was transported to Botany Bay had of cutting out Prince Albert and Queen Victoria's graces. Have you any more hope now? I have. We've got a friend on the outside and he's doing us good service as he has already proved. If lone wolf wasn't among that crowd, I don't believe they would stay after what has took place. There's nothing to scare an engine like them things which he don't understand. I should think that that rifle shot has proof enough that somebody is firing into them. We're the powers, but you know little of engine developments as I've learned them from Sot Simpson. How do you know, but that's a trick to make these apaches believe that there's but a single coyote over there popping at him, when there may be half a hundred waiting for the chance to clean him out? Maybe that is Sot himself. You know you have been expecting him. That can't be him, replied Mickey with a shake of his head. They would have showed himself long ago when he could be sure of happiness. There must be some redskins over there that have put up a job on lone wolf and his scamps. Whoever it is, whether one or a dozen, they are helping us mightily, so it looks. Though they don't mean it for that, enough to drive in these spalpenes away they may come over to clean us out themselves. Nothing was heard of the redskins above for a considerable time after the shot mentioned, then the body was suddenly whisked out of sight. It is a principle with Indians to bring away their dead from any fight in which they may have fallen. At the imminent risk of losing his own life a warrior had stolen up and drawn away the remains of his former comrade. The mysterious shot seemed to come from the other side of the ravine but they naturally had a very demoralizing effect upon the party. Lone wolf was not only brave but sagacious and prudent. He was not the chief to allow his warriors to stand idly and permit themselves to be picked off one by one by an unseen enemy. But for the latter he would have descended into the fissure and with several of his most reliable braves captured and secured Mickey and his companion at all hazards. But what assurance could he have that after he and his men had entered the little ravine a whole party of Kiowas would not swarm in, overwhelm them, and make off with their horses. So the leader concluded for the time being to remain outside where his line of retreat would be open while he could arrange his plans for disposing of the whites at his leisure. Lone wolf dispatched two of his most skillful scouts, one to the right, the other to the left with orders to get to the rear of the enemy no matter how long a detour was necessary. In case they were unable to extinguish them they were to signal or return for assistance. After sending off his trusty messengers Lone wolf concluded to hold back until their return, keeping himself and his braves pretty well concealed but guarding against the capture of their horses in the ravine below or the escape of the two fugitives who might attempt to take advantage of the diversion. At the end of an hour nothing had been seen or heard of the Apache scouts sent out and the chief dispatched another to learn what was going on and what was the cause of the trouble. During this hour not a rifle shot was detected by the waiting listening ears. Another half hour passed away and the third man sent out by Lone wolf came back alone and with astounding tidings. He had found both of the warriors lying within a few yards of each other, stone dead. He sought for some explanation of the strange occurrence but found none and returned with the news to his leader. The latter was about as furious as a wild Indian could be without exploding. Lone wolf had his own theory of the thing and he inquired particularly as to the manner in which the fatal wounds seemed to have been inflicted. When they were described all doubt was removed from the mind of the chieftain. He knew where the fatal shots came from and he determined that there was no better time to square accounts. Calling the larger portion of his company about him he started backward away from the ravine, his purpose being to reach the rear of his enemy by a long detour. End of Chapter 17 Read by Thomas Rose Chapter 18 Of the Cave in the Mountain by Edward Ellis This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Chapter 18 An old acquaintance All this was grist for Mickey and Fred The long silence and inaction so far as these two were concerned of the Apaches convinced the fugitives that some important interruption was going on and that it could not fail to operate in the most direct way in their favour. It was well into the afternoon when the collision occurred between them and the Apaches and enough time had already passed to bring the night quite close at hand, an hour or so more and darkness would be upon them. I don't believe the spellpains have found out just the precise spot where we've stood we, said Mickey and his cautious undertone to his companion, for of no evidence that such is the case, they may take it into their heads to come into the Fisher again and then where are we? Right here, every time. We couldn't get a better spot unless it might be at the mouth. Don't you think we had better go there? asked the lad who did not feel the assurance of his friend. I see nothing to be gained by the same as Tim O'Looney said when someone told him that honesty was the best policy. If we start to return there they'll find out where we are and begin to roll stones on us. I don't want to go along dodging rocks as big as a house with an occasional rifle shot thrown in by we of variety. Don't you fear they will creep in and try to surprise us? Not before dark, and then we can shift our position. Do you believe there is any hope at all for us in the way of getting out? The Irishman was careful not to arouse too strong hopes in the breast of the lad, and he tried to be guarded in his reply. And I oughta do, I would have sworn if there were a half dozen of us in here there was no shul of our getting away with our top-nuts for the reason that there is, but one a hole through which we could sneak, and there's twenty of them sitting round there and watching for us. But I feel that there is some ground for hope. What reason for your saying there is hope? Isn't it just as hard to get out the front without being seen? It might be just now. But there's no tilling with them either, spell-peans main to do after the sun goes down. Suppose they get lone-wolf in his min in such a big fight that they'd have their hands full. What's to hinder our sneaking-out the back door during the rumpus, hunting up our mustangs, or somebody else's, and resuming our journey to New Boston, which these spell-peans were so imparting at us to interrupt a short time since? Fred Monson felt that this was about as rose-coloured a view as could be taken, and indeed a great deal rosier than the situation warranted, at least in his opinion. Mickey, if that isn't counting chickens before they're hatched, I don't know what is. While you're supposing things, suppose these Indians don't do all that. Where's going to come our chance of creeping out without their knowing it? Mickey scratched his head in his puzzled way and replied, I'm sorry to observe that you persist in acts and naughty questions, as I reproved me landlord for doing in the old country when he found me digging praeties in his patch. There's a good many wheeze in which we may get a chance to creep out, and I'm bound to say there'd be a good many more by which we can't, but the good lord has been so good to us that I can't help believe, and he won't let us drop just yet, though he may think that the best thing for us both will be to let the varmints come in and scalp us. There was a good deal of hope in the Irishman, and a certain contagion marked it which Fred Monson felt, but he could not entertain as much of it as did his older and more experienced friend. Still he was ready to make any attempt which offered the least chance of flight. He was hungry and thirsty, and there was no way of supplying the wants, and he dreaded the night of suffering to be succeeded by the still more tormenting day. It was very warm in the ravine where not a stir of air could reach them. If they suffered themselves to be cooped up there through the night, they would be certain to continue there during the following day, for it was not to be expected by the wildest enthusiast that any way of escape presented itself under the broad sunlight. The following night must find them more weakened in every respect, for the chewing of leaves, while it might afford temporary relief, could not be expected to amount to much in a run of twenty-four hours. Clearly, if anything at all was to be done or attempted, it should not be deferred beyond the evening which was now close at hand. But the objection again came up that whatever Mickey and Fred decided on, hinged upon the action of the parties with whom they had nothing to do and with whom, as a matter of course, it was impossible to communicate. If the Kiowa's, as they were suspected to be, should choose to draw off and have nothing further to do with the business, the situation of the fugitives must become as despairing and hopeless as in the first case. There perhaps was some reason for the declaration of Mickey that the strangers, their allies for the time being, were a great deal more likely to perform their mission before the sun should rise again. Consequently, the next few hours were likely to settle the question one way or the other. Do you know whether any of the Apaches are still up there? Asked Fred. Yes, there be one or two. I've seen them since we've been talking, but they're a good deal more careful of showing their ugly faces. They peep over now and then and dodge back again with her I can get a chance to pop away. Would you try and shoot them if you had the chance? Not just yet. For it would show them where we are and they would be likely to bother us. The two carried out this policy of keeping their precise location from the Indians so long as it was possible, which would have been a very short time but for the terror inspired among the Apaches from the shots across the pass. Mickey had no suspicion that Lone Wolf and his best warriors were absent on a hunt for the annoying cause of these shots. Had he known it, he might have been tempted upon a reconnaissance of his own before sunset, and so it was well, perhaps, that he remained in ignorance. Within the next hour night descended and the ravine excluding the rays of the moon became so dark that Mickey believed it safe to venture out of their niche and approach the pass into which they had no idea of entering, until the ground had been thoroughly reconnoitred. The spalpeens will be listening, whispered Mickey as they crept out, and so ye nadent indulge in any whistling or hurrying or dancing jigs on the way to our destination. Fred appreciated their common peril too well to allow any betrayal through his remissness. Favored by the darkness, they crept carefully along over the rocks and boulders and through the vines and vegetation until they were so close that the man halted. Do ye mind, and Cape is still as a dead man, but we're so close now that it won't do to get any closer till we know what the spalpeens are doing. The two occupied this position for some time during which nothing caught their ears to betray the presence of men or animals. Feeling the great value of time, Mickey was on the point of creeping forth when he became aware that there was somebody moving near him. The sound was very slight, but the proof was all the more positive on that account, for it is only by such means that the professional scout judges of the proceedings of a foe near him. His first dread was that the individual was in the rear having entered the fissure while they were at the opposite end and then allowed them to pass by him, but when the faint rustling caught his ear again there could be no doubt that it was in front of him. One of the spalpeens, and maybe Lone Wolf himself coming in to learn about our health, was his conclusion, though the situation was too critical to allow him to communicate with the lad behind him. Reaching his hand back he touched his arm as a warning for the most perfect silence. The boulder against which he was partly resting was no more quiet and motionless than Fred, who had nerv'd himself to meet the worst or best fortune. A few minutes more listening satisfied Mickey that the red skin was not a dozen feet in front, and that a particularly large boulder which was partly revealed by some stray moonlight that made its way through the limbs and branches was sheltering the scout. Not only that, but he became convinced that the Indian was moving around the left side of the rock, hugging it, and keeping so close to the ground that the faintest shadowy resemblance of a human figure could not be detected. It was at this juncture that the Irishman determined upon a performance perfectly characteristic and amusing in its originality. Carefully drawing his knife from his pocket, he managed to cut a switch some five or six feet in length, the end of which was slightly split. He next took one of his matches and struck it against the rock, holding and nursing the flame so far down behind it that not the slightest sign of it could be seen from the outside. Before the match had cleared itself of the brimstone, Mickey secured the other end of the stick in his hand. His next proceeding was to raise this stick, move it around in front, and then suddenly extend it at arm's length. This brought the burning match into the dense shadow alongside the rock and directly over the head of the amazed scout. The hibernian character of the act was that, while it revealed to him his man, it also, in a less degree, betrayed the location of Mickey himself whose delighted astonishment may be imagined when, instead of discerning a crouching painted Apache, he recognized the familiar figure of Sut Simpson the Scout. What an thunder you're driving at! growled the no less astonished Sut as the flame was almost brought against his face. Do you take me for a gag of powder, and do you want to touch me off? No, but I was thinking that that long red nose a yarn was so full of whiskey that it would burn, and I wanted to make sartan. End of Chapter 18 Read by Thomas Rose Chapter 19 Of the Cave in the Mountain by Edward Ellis This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 19 How It Was Done From the very depths of despair Mickey O'Roonie and Fred Munson were lifted to the most buoyant heights of hope. I always took you for a hoodlum, growled the scout, but you've just showed yourself a bigger one than I supposed. Your order fetched a lantern-weed so as to use knights in walking around the country and looking for folks. Begaur, if that isn't the idea, responded the Irishman with mock enthusiasm. Only I was considering, wouldn't it be as well to call out the name of my friends? You know what a sweet voice I have. When I used to try and sing and torch, the old gentleman always lambasted me for failing the saw and sundae. But why don't you crepe forward and extend me your paw, as the bear said to the man? Sut, however, did not move, but retained his crouching position beside the large boulder, speaking in the lowest and most guarded voice. It won't do. We haven't any time to fool away here about. Is that yonker with you? Right at me here, says me uncle concluded when the bulldog nabbed him. Come ahead then. Shoot me, but this ain't a healthy place to loaf in just now. The patches are too plenty and too close. We must light out. Shanta, strike another match to light us out, bay. Hold your tongue, will you? Creep right along behind me, thought making any noise at all, and don't rise to your feet till you see me do it, and don't open your meat-traps to speak till I ask you a question if it isn't till a month from now. Do you understand me? Mickey replied that he had a general idea of his meaning and that he might as well go ahead with the circus. Fred had caught the whispered conversation and, of course, knew what it meant. As Mickey turned round to see where he was, he found him at his elbow. Sh! Come ahead now. We're going to creep straight across the past till we reach the other side, when we'll go down that some ways and I'll tell you the rest. A second or two afterward, the long, wirey frame of the scout emerged from the dense shadow at the side of the boulder and crept forward in the direction of the middle of the main ravine or pass. Close behind him followed Mickey and Fred, the trio forming a curious procession as they carefully picked their way across the moonlit gorge, the grass for most of the distance being so dense that they were pretty well screened from view. The directions of the scout were carefully obeyed to the letter, for indeed there could have been no excuse for disregarding them. He understood perfectly the nature of the task he had undertaken and the risk he ran was entirely for the benefit of his friends. One of the first and most important requisites of a scout is patience, without which he is sure to commit all manner of errors. In the present case it seemed to Fred that much valuable time could be saved if they would simply rise to their feet and make a dash straight across the ravine. Even Mickey was of the same opinion, at least to the extent of varying the pace so as to go slowly part of the time and rapidly the rest as the ground became unfavorable or favorable. But it was very clear that Sut Simpson held very different views. A piece of machinery could not have advanced with a more regular movement than did he. A movement that was excessively trying to an impatient person who could not understand his reason for it. Mickey could see that he turned his head from side to side and was using his eyes and ears to the extent of their ability. At the end of some fifteen or twenty minutes the base of the perpendicular wall on the opposite side was reached and greatly to the relief of his companions he rose to his feet they following suit. But God, however, that's a sweet relief as Miant Bridget observed when her old man a turn of the head and an impatient gesture from the scout silenced Mickey before he had time to complete the remark. He subsided instantly and began a debate with himself as to whether he ought not to apologize for his forgetfulness, but he concluded to wait. The long, lank figure of Sut Simpson looked as if it was a shadow slowly stealing along the dark face of the rock followed by that of Mickey and the lad. They were as silent as phantoms, each walking as tenderly and carefully as though he was a burglar breaking into the house of some sleeping merchant who slumbers were as light as down. Mickey had no doubt that this was continued twice as long as necessary, although he conscientiously strove to carry out the wishes of the scout in that respect. He stumbled once or twice, but that was because of the treacherous nature of the ground. They must have journeyed fully a quarter of a mile in this fashion before Sut held up in the least. During all this time so far as Mickey could judge nothing had been seen or heard of the Apaches who supposedly would have guarded the outlet in which the two had taken refuge with a closeness that could not have permitted such an escape. But not one had been encountered. It was a most extraordinary occurrence all through and Mickey found it hard to understand how one man, skilled and brave though he was, could perform such a Herculean task. For there could be no doubt that to him under provenance belonged the exclusive credit. Of course it was Sut who had fired the shot that saved Fred from a terrible death by the grizzly bear and his well-aimed and opportune shots had done the fugitives in estimable service when they were crouching in the fissure and despairing of all hope. But there must have been something back of all this. The scout must have possessed a greater power which had not become manifest to his friends as yet. Now you can walk with more ease, he said, as he dropped back beside his companions, but at the same time don't talk too loud. Let us all keep as much in the shed as we can, for there may be other varmints around and there's no pilling when you're likely to run again them. But where are the spell-penes that shot us up in that split in the rocks? They're all behind us, every varmint of them, and they're there likely to stay for a while, but Mickey, I want you to tell me what happened, or do we parted among these mountains and took different routes for the yunker here? The Irishman related his experience, in as brief a manner as possible the scout listening with a great deal of interest in asking a question or two. The luck was yours, he said, when the narrator concluded, of getting on the right track while I got on the wrong. Mickey scratched his head in his old quizzical way. The same luck befell the spell-penes and myself. I first got on their track, and then they got on main, so we'll call that square as Mike Harrigan did when he went back the second night and took the other goat so as to make a pair. That was now on to a bad fix when you pitched into that cave and couldn't find the way out till the wolf showed the yunker. But it wasn't so bad as you think, as I'd been sure to find you were there. I know the way in and out of it, and I could have got into it and fixed you out, but you were lucky enough not to need me. How was it that you were so long turning up after we separated? Well, long wolf in his braves rode so fast that it was a good while for I caught stuff and found that he hadn't the yunker with him. Then, in course, I turned back and found that you'd flopped so much off and on your trail that there was a good deal of trouble to keep track here. Where did you first catch the late of Mickey O'Roonie's elegant and expressive countenance? I saw you stopped the camp this morning a good way he's up the pass where you cooked your piece of antelope meat and swallowed enough to last you for a week. It was you that shot the grizzly bear just as he was going to kill me, inquired Fred with a pleased look in the scarred face of the scout who smiled in turn as he answered, I have a speck in it or me and nobody else. Well, he didn't you come forward and introduce yourself, inquired Mickey. It was all a mystique to think that we felt too proud to notice you, even if you ain't as good looking as myself. Well, I thought I'd walked here a while, believing I could do you more service than by joining in, as was showed by what took place afterwards. Where would you have been if I'd got shit up in that trap with you? Lone Wolf would have had our hair long ago. But how did you manage to fool the pack into giving us a chance to creep out? That was easy enough when you understand it. I thought it would come easier to a man who understood how to do it than it did to one who didn't know anything about it. After picking off one or two of the varmints, that made Lone Wolf mad, and he sent out a couple of his warriors to wipe me out. It didn't think I knowed his game, but I did, and when they got around to where I was, I just slid him under before they knowed what the matter was. When he sent a third varmin after them, and he went back and told the chief that the first two had gone to the eternal hunting grounds, he was so all farred mad that he left only a half dozen to watch the whole were used to come out, while he took the rest and come after me. I know a good many alone wolf signals, added the scout with a chuckle, and honor he'd been on this side for a while, I dipped down into the pass and signaled for the rest of them to come. They come, every one of them, and then I went for you, not certain whether you were maced or not. We got away in good time to save ourselves running again them. End of Chapter 19 Read by Thomas Rose