A heap of fresh fuel—probably dry cedar boughs—had just been thrown on the coals by some of the determined dancers down in the road and a broad glare of firelight illumined the Pass. Again the rocks and trees down in front of the cave were brilliantly tinged, and, as though determined to have a good look at these strange "goings on," there suddenly leaped from the darkness and appeared in view upon the flat top of one of the biggest bowlders a little four-footed creature gazing with glowing eyes upon the scene below.
"There's your Indian, James, my boy," softly laughed Pike and, turning, he called back into the cave:
"Ned, are you asleep?"
"No," was the prompt answer. "Do you want me, Pike?"
"Come here and I'll show you a pretty shot for your Ballard."
Ned was at his side in an instant, bringing his little rifle with him, and the old soldier pointed down the hill.
"That's what Jim took for an Apache," he said.
