"Well, all right," panted Bill, "but I'll bet ye we seen twenty. And when we run across 'em they chased us."
"There they are!" said Winchester, pointing to a string of half-naked horsemen, "and if them ain't Apaches, I'm a liar."
"Leave 'em to me!" swaggered Meshackatee, "because that's where I shine. We'll try 'em with a little sign-talk."
He stepped out on the point where he could be seen plainly from below and raised his right hand in the peace sign.
"Wahoo!" he bellowed, "Wahoo Meshackatee!" But the Indians only circled and stared at him. They were savage looking creatures, with their long black hair bound back out of their eyes with red handkerchiefs; but after a second look Meshackatee ripped out an oath and came striding back to the posse.
"Aw, hell!" he exclaimed, "them ain't no Injuns. It's nothing but a passel of white men."
"How do you know?" demanded Bill. "Jest because they don't savvy your sign-language——"
"Aw, cripes; I know an Injun!" burst out Meshackatee indignantly. "I can tell 'em by the way they set a horse. We'll try 'em with a little U.S.A."
He stepped out on the point and hailed them again, and a man rode out from the rest. He was mounted on a mule and the minute he saw him McIvor knew it was Grimes. It was not the mule alone, it was the thrust of his head and the handy way he carried his rifle.