“‘The country is so open,’ said Sam, ‘that she thought I had better start at once, so as to give you what help I could with the cattle—what’s the matter, George?’ he asked, observing the white face of his friend.
“‘Where did you get my horse?’ asked Jennings, striving hard to control himself.
“‘Up near the ford,’ said Sam; ‘just as I stopped to let my pony drink, someone fired at me from the bush, and I dropped out the saddle to the ground. I wasn’t hurt a bit; it was a dodge of mine to trick the redskin. The next instant, there was a whoop, and an Apache galloped out of the bush toward me, sure of another scalp. Wal,’ added Sam, with a grin, ‘an Apache can mistake, the same as other folks, and I needn’t give you the partic’lars. Your horse seemed to think he was at liberty to travel home, and he went so fast that I didn’t overhaul him till about a mile out. I was worried thinkin’ something had happened, and was glad enough to see that everything was right.’ Now that was a big mistake of Sam, wasn’t it?”
Nick and Herbert turned toward the speaker, as both answered his odd question, and observed that he now held his revolver in hand.
“Boys,” called poor Strubell, “the tarantula is creeping toward my face; I guess he means to bite; don’t stir, and if he gets much closer I’ll make a sweep at him.”
CHAPTER VI.
TWO GOOD SHOTS.
“WAL, then, Jennings tells Sam everything that had took place. It was wonderful the control the ranchman showed over himself. His face was as white as death, but he didn’t tremble, and talked as if he was speaking about the cattle. Sam thought that the Apache, having the extra load of the child and dead warrior, would not be able to travel fast, and there was a chance of fetching him off his pony, but Jennings feared there was a party of the varmints near by, and that he would jine them.