A RUN FOR LIFE.
A few minutes' ride at a swinging, easy, gallop brought Ned to the edge
of the grove where the camp fire had first arrested his attention. As he
reached the margin he threw himself from the back of the mustang,
fastened the bridle-rein securely to a limb, and, with his rifle slung
over his shoulder, strode forward toward the center. He was not yet in
sight of the fire when it suddenly occurred to him that possibly he was
mistaken. He checked himself and began moving very much as he did when
approaching his mustang, and it was fortunate that he did so, for the
next moment he discovered that he had committed a most serious mistake
indeed. Instead of seeing the well-known figures of the hunters sitting
by the camp fire and quietly smoking their pipes, he caught a glimpse of
half a dozen warriors very similarly engaged.
Ned shuddered as he reflected how narrowly he escaped running into
destruction, and then he crept forward until he could get a little
better view. There they were, six Apache Indians lolling and lounging
upon the grass. They had evidently returned from a long and wearisome
ride, and were devoting the early portion of the day to rest, both for
themselves and animals, which were picketed near at hand. The lad
naturally wondered whether any of them belonged to Lone Wolf's band, and
he crept nearer than was prudent in order to make certain.
"It may be that Lone Wolf himself is there," he reflected, drawn on by
that strange fascination which often seizes a person at the proximity of
some dreaded danger. "It would be queer if the chief had crossed my path
again."
By and by, after moving along for some distance upon his hands and
knees, he secured a favorable point, where, by waiting a few minutes, he
was able to gain a view of all the faces. They were all strangers. He
had never seen any of them before.
"That's good," he said to himself, as he began retrograding, "they won't
be expecting me--"
At this juncture, one of the Indian horses, a short distance away,
raised his head and whinnied. It was instantly responded to by the
mustang which Ned had ridden to the place. The Apaches very naturally
noticed this significant fact, and started to their feet to learn what
it meant. Terribly alarmed at the unexpected mishap, Ned sprang up, not
daring to trust the tardy, crab-like gait he was following, and,
regardless of discovery, dashed away as hard as he could run in the
direction of his steed. He could not mistake the true course, for the
animal seemingly aware that something was wrong, kept up a continual
whinnying, that guided him as unerringly as it did the Apaches who were
hurrying after him. A few seconds and the boy stood beside the creature,
which showed, by its excited manner, that he was as desirous as his
master to leave the spot. He was tugging at the rein so lustily that it
threatened to break every instant, and Ned trembled at the fear that he
would be left alone.
The impatient, eager haste with which the rein was unfastened, the
seemingly impossibility of getting the loosely fastened knot untied, the
little obstructions that constantly obtruded themselves--these cannot be
described nor imagined. It would have been unnatural in the highest
degree had Ned not found himself "nervous." He was ready to yield to
despair more than once, and what were really seconds were as many
minutes to him. The Indians could be heard moving through the
undergrowth, their progress cautious as it always is when they have
reason to fear that enemies are close at hand.
It was this deliberation which gave Ned his only chance. The rein was
unfastened at last, and, with a desperate effort he mounted the mustang,
which came very near bounding from beneath him while in the act of
springing upward, and, turning his head toward the southwest, the very
direction he wished to follow, Chadmund struck his sides with his heels,
gave a regular Indian shout and was off. The steed scarcely needed all
this to incite him to his highest efforts. Stretching out his neck, he
sped away like an arrow, while the young rider constantly urged him to
still greater effort. But no urging was required. The fleet-footed
courser was already going with the speed of the wind.
Scarcely had he gotten under way, however, when the crack! crack! of
rifles was heard, and the singing of bullets around his ears told the
fugitive at whom they were aimed. He instantly threw himself forward
upon the neck of the mustang, and shouted again, in a voice that must
have been heard by the redskins themselves:
"Go it, my horse! Don't let them catch us! We mustn't lose now!"
One or two more shots were heard, and then all was quiet again.
"We've got beyond their range," concluded the boy, "and there's no need
of wasting their powder on us."
Still he remained with his head bent on the neck of his animal, the
latter upon a dead run, until they had gone a considerable distance
further. Then believing all peril past, he drew him down somewhat, for
the gait was more trying to him than to the steed himself, and it was
simply prudent to husband his strength, when there was no necessity of
putting it forth.
For the first time since starting, Ned turned and surveyed the ground
over which he had passed. The view was not a reassuring one by any
means. Instead of seeing the Apaches standing in mute despair upon the
margin of the grove, and staring in wonder at his flight, he saw instead
the whole party mounted and in full pursuit. They were adopting what
seemed to him a strange course. Instead of charging along in a body,
they were separating and spreading out like a fan.
"I wonder what it is for," said the fugitive to himself, as he urged his
horse to a renewal of the arrowy speed he had shown at the beginning.
When he came to reflect upon it more fully, he divined the cause. The
Apaches had recognized in him a prize worth striving for, and had set
about it in their usual cunning fashion. By separating in this manner,
they could close in again whenever they chose, and at a time, too, when
it might be out of the power of the fugitive to escape by means of the
superior speed of his horse. If he should turn to the right or left, or
to the rear, he would come in collision with some of them, whereas, if
they remained in a compact body, and he should find his way shut in
front, he might elude them by turning to either side.
Such was young Chadmund's solution of their actions, and such,
undoubtedly, was the true one. He looked ahead; but all remained open
and clear. Only far away in the very horizon could be seen that blue,
misty outline of some mountain chain, seemingly hundreds of miles in
advance.
"It can't be that _that_ is the place," he mused, as he looked ahead;
"that is too far to be reached before to-morrow, and between now and
then I shall have plenty of chances to give them the slip."
But the mountains were to be crossed at some time or other, and those
Apaches were likely to follow him with the persistency of bloodhounds.
The mere fact that he had distanced them at the beginning, and obtained
such a favorable start, was no evidence that he was to be relieved from
further danger, even after the night should have come and gone. But Ned
enjoyed to the full the thrilling pleasure of observing that he was
steadily and rapidly drawing away from his pursuers. Every few minutes,
when he looked back, he could see they were dropping further and further
behind. His gain in this respect was clearly perceptible to himself, and
when, at the end of an hour or more, he observed that the Apaches had
ceased the effort to overhaul him, he could scarcely repress his
exultation.
"They made a good selection!" he exclaimed, alluding to the steed which
the hunters had taken from the Indians in the mountains. "They could not
have done better."
Drawing his mustang down to a dead halt, he carefully scanned the
prairie behind him. Only three of his pursuers were visible, and, if his
eyes did not deceive him, they were turning back. A few minutes careful
scrutiny assured him of the fact. He had outwitted the redskins again.
"Now, you may rest yourself, my pet," he said to his horse, fondly
patting the neck of his steed.
"You have done nobly, and I feel like trusting you alone to graze."
As near as he could judge it was close upon noon, and his animal was in
need of rest, although capable of continuing his arrowy flight until the
sun should sink in the west. It was wise to indulge him all he could,
and for the next two hours he was permitted to walk at a moderate gait.
At the end of that time he headed toward a ravine, in which a few
stunted trees were growing, and where he hoped to find grass and water.
He did not forget the lesson he had learned, and before trusting himself
in the inviting shade and coolness, he carefully circled about the place
until assured that no peril lurked there, when he rode forward at the
same leisurely pace.
He was yet a hundred yards distant, when his mustang abruptly paused of
his own accord, pricking up his ears as if he scented danger.
Ned urged him, and he advanced a few steps, and then halted again,
raising high his head and snuffing the air, accompanied at the same time
by a peculiar stamp of the foot.
"There must be something wrong," thought the boy in alarm.