Sam could not keep his mind on the very funny discussion which followed between Ike and Wah Shin, as to the merits of their respective races. He was thinking of his beloved father, and wondering if he still lived and was waiting for the paper that was to prove his innocence, by showing to the world that he could have had no possible motive for desiring the death of Tom Edwards.
One, two, three hours passed and the fierce sun poured down a blistering heat on the bare rocks, till the hot air rose in shivering, shimmering waves, that distorted every object seen at any distance, and threw into the most fantastic shapes the hills that studded the wide plateau.
Every few minutes Sam looked to the east, expecting the return of the braves who had gone in pursuit of Ulna, but it was not till the sun had been past the zenith more than an hour, that his keen gaze detected four figures—the mirage gave them the appearance of giant spectres—approaching at a deliberate pace.
Blanco made the discovery about the same time, and at once sent a messenger to hurry up the pursuers. He did not need to be told that his braves had not been successful in their mission, for had they been returning with a scalp they would not have been so deliberate in their movements.
When the braves were within a few hundred yards, Blanco ran out to meet them, and seeing that one of them was wounded he said:
"Did the Ute win?"
"He did," replied the wounded man. "An antelope could not have kept up with him had he put forth all his speed."
"Yet, you came close enough to him to catch his bullet," said the puzzled chief.
"Yes, and close enough to lose my scalp, if Ulna had cared to take it," said the brave, with a candor but rarely manifested by a savage.
In answer to the chief's desire to learn how this unusual event came about, the brave told frankly and truthfully the whole story, even to the conversation he had with Ulna before he left.