OUTWITTED.
"I'll match them Apaches agin the world for shrewd deviltry," exclaimed
Hardynge, unable to suppress his admiration even in the moment which
told him of his own increased personal danger. "By some hook or crook,
the Old Boy only knows what, they've found out my game, and are after
me. Ah! if I only had my mustang, Thundergust, with me!"
Tom now changed his direction more to the north, his intention being to
strike the river much sooner than was his original purpose. It was the
only thing he could do to escape the redskins, who showed such a
wonderful skill in following him up.
As near as he could judge, something like ten miles still intervened
between him and the friendly stream--a distance which he was confident
of passing before daylight, if he did not find his pursuers in his path.
The greatest care was necessary to keep out of the way of these
creatures, and the fugitive had run but a short distance when he paused
and applied his ear to the ground again. Only for an instant, however,
when he bounded up and was off like a shot. The alarming sounds came to
his ear with such distinctness as to prove that the Apaches were close
at hand. Guided by some strange fatality, they were bearing directly
down upon him at full speed. More than all, those pattering footfalls
were such as to indicate that the swarthy horsemen were not approaching
in a compact group. They had separated so as to cover a wide area of
ground, and were advancing in such an array that the difficulty of
escape was increased tenfold. Everything conspired against poor Tom. The
bright moonlight, the broad level stretch of plain, the fact that he was
on foot, and his pursuers, besides being well mounted, were among the
most skillful riders of the Southwest, made his situation about as
desperate as it is possible to imagine.
A few minutes later the fugitive paused again, but this time it was not
necessary that he should apply his ear to the ground. The sounds of the
mustangs' hoofs came to him very plainly through the midnight air, and
as he looked around he half expected to see the shadowy figures of the
horsemen plunging forward in the gloom toward him! Nothing was to be
seen, however, of them, and, feeling that the situation was becoming
desperate, he changed his course again, his purpose being simply to get
by the approaching marauders without caring in what direction he went.
Had he been five minutes earlier he might have succeeded, but he was
just that much too late.
He was stealing forward in his cautious manner, with the sound of the
horses' hoofs growing more distinct every second, when, sure enough, the
figure of an Indian horseman suddenly came in sight, bearing down upon
him as straight as an arrow. The very instant Tom saw it he sank down
upon his face, scarcely daring to hope that his pursuer would pass him,
and prepared for whatever he chose to do.
The scout turned his head so that he could watch every movement and
guard against it, his hand being extended beneath his body in the most
natural position possible, but grasping his loaded revolver.
It may have been that the Apache would have gone by but for the action
of his mustang. These intelligent animals seem to know, in many cases,
far more than their masters, and the one in question was yet some yards
distant from the prostrate form, when he halted with a snort. This
opened the ball, and the scout anxiously awaited the fight which seemed
inevitable.
Fortunately, the Indian party had separated to such an extent that no
others were in sight of the fugitive, who thus had but a single man to
contend against, although there was no question but what any number of
others could be summoned to the spot in a twinkling. The foeman
understood the situation at a glance; that is, he knew that the man for
whom he was seeking was prostrate upon the ground before him, but he had
no means of judging whether he was dead, asleep, or feigning. Under
these circumstances he advanced very cautiously, his mustang betraying
considerable reluctance at walking up to a man stretched out at full
length.
This was precisely what Hardynge desired, as every minute that matters
remained in _statu quo_ placed the friends of his adversary further away
and simplified the encounter, which he considered as certain to take
place.
Something like ten minutes were occupied in this stealthy advance of the
horse, at the end of which time he stood so that his head was directly
over the shoulders of the prostrate man, who still lay as motionless as
a statue.
"Hooh!" exclaimed the rider, holding himself ready for any demonstration
upon the part of the suspected white man. But the latter never stirred,
although he shivered a little at the fear that the mustang might place
his hoof upon him.
Tom's peculiar peril will be understood when it is stated that the
Apache was master of the situation from the instant they came in sight
of each other. Had the fugitive fired at him the moment he caught sight
of his horse, he might have tumbled him to the ground, but it would have
brought the rest of the party around him in an instant. As matters now
stood, the Apache would have fired at the first movement he made, no
matter how dexterous, to draw his hand from beneath his body, and so Tom
bided his time.
"Hooh!"
This was repeated several times, when the warrior tried to force his
mustang to step upon him; but the animal was too timid to be forced into
doing such a repugnant thing, and, when angrily urged thereto, leaped
clear of the body with a sniff of terror, and galloped several rods
before he could be brought round and compelled to face the unknown
again. This seemed to convince the Apache that the man was dead, and
without any further hesitation he slid down from the back of his horse,
and advanced to the figure for the purpose of scalping him.
He had just stooped down, knife in hand, when the form turned like a
flash. There came a blinding flash, then a report and a cry, almost
together, and Tom Hardynge seemed to leap up from the ground as if a
bomb had exploded beneath him, and, dashing toward the mustang, seized
his rein and vaulted upon his back before the animal really knew what
had taken place.
It was a daring deed, but it succeeded to perfection. The scout had not
only extinguished his foe, but had captured his horse as well. The sound
of the pistol might reach the ears of other Apaches, but he cared
nothing for that. He was as well mounted as they, and, with the start
which he had gained, they were welcome to do all they could. In view of
this, it was impossible for him to restrain his exultation, and the
moment he realized that he was fairly astride of the mustang he let out
a shout that might have been heard a mile away. The steed which bore him
was an excellent one, and he had no fear of being overtaken by any of
them. He knew in what direction to take his flight, and away he sped
with his horse upon a dead run. He scarcely drew rein until daylight
broke over the prairie, when he found himself pursuing a direction
parallel with the river, and making good headway toward the point where
he hoped his own matchless Thundergust was awaiting him.
Hardynge scarcely halted during the greater portion of the next day,
except when his mustang required it, and shortly after the sun crossed
the meridian he was gratified at catching sight of the rolling prairie
and wooded hills where he had turned his horse loose nearly a week
before. While at a distance he gave utterance to several sharp whistles,
which produced the response he desired, the beautiful glossy mustang
galloping forth to meet him with every appearance of delight. The
creature had taken good care of himself during his absence, having
feasted upon the rich, succulent grass, and was in the best possible
condition.
Turning the Indian horse loose Tom bestowed no further attention upon
him, but leaped upon his favorite animal and galloped away to the rocks
where he had carefully concealed his saddle and riding gear and where
they had lain untouched while he was gone.
Just as he dismounted, his eye rested upon a piece of dried buffalo-skin
which was pinned against a tree, the inner side turned outward. The
first glance told him there was something unusual, and his curiosity led
him to approach and scan it closely. There was some writing scrawled
upon it, which he read with little difficulty. The words were startling
enough, and as the hunter finished them he exclaimed, in a frightened
undertone:
"Thunderation! can it be possible?"