“All right,” he replied decisively; “at the first streak of daylight to-morrer we make a break for the old buildin’ yonder.”
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE FINAL CHARGE.
AT THE earliest streaking of gray in the eastern horizon the three men and Herbert Watrous, all of whom had been sleeping fitfully by turns through the long dismal hours, silently rose to their feet and walked to where the ponies, a short distance off, had resumed their cropping of the grass. They were thirsty, like their masters, but no water was within reach, and they were doing their best to satisfy their hunger.
The outlines of the old adobe mission building showed faintly through the obscurity as the little party headed westward, and advanced at a moderate walk, on the alert for the Apaches, of whom they had detected signs now and then during their wearisome watching.
The action of the red men had puzzled the trapper as well as Strubell and Lattin. It was hard to understand why they had not stumbled on the truth, but there was good reason for believing they were still ignorant of the presence of the white men so near them. It was upon this theory that the success of the daring enterprise was based.
Eph Bozeman placed himself at the head, Herbert coming next, with one of the Texans on either side. The veteran was the best qualified to lead, while the disposition of all was with a view of protecting the younger and less experienced member of the party.
Nothing was seen of their enemies until half the distance was passed, when Lattin, who was on Herbert’s right, exclaimed in an undertone: