Mark had been asleep about two hours when he awoke with a sudden start. He had been dreaming of home and of his step-father, and imagined Jadell Powers had him by the foot and was dragging him across the floor of the dingy law office.
He opened his eyes widely and stared around him. All was dark, but in the gloom he discerned several forms moving around. The forms were those of Indians, and the red men were going through the packs which lay beside the mule. To the packs and the mule was attached a light string and the other end of the string was tied to Mark's foot.
"Indians!" he burst out. "Hi! wake up! The Indians are here!"
His cry was so shrill that it awoke everybody in the camp, and all leaped to their feet.
"What's up?"
"Where are the Indians?"
"There they go!" answered Mark. "They were at our packs."
"The old Nick, you say!" burst out Maybe Dixon. He reached for his rifle, which rested under him. "I'll give 'em something to remember us by!"
But before he could take aim the Indians had vanished in the gloom of the night. They heard the footsteps resounding on the rocks, then heard the red men mount their ponies and gallop away.
"They are gone," said Bob. "I say, I don't like this at all!"