But the repulse for the time being was effectual and the way was clear.
“I guess I’d better get out of here,” was the thought of Fred, “for it ain’t likely they will leave me alone very long when they’ve found out that I’m the only one left.”
With revolver in hand he moved hurriedly backward among the rocks, and, after going a few rods, halted and looked for his pursuers, whom he believed to be close behind him. There was something coming, but a moment’s listening satisfied him that it was his mustang, which seemed to comprehend the exigency fully as well as he did himself.
“I don’t know about that,” he reflected. “They can follow him better then they can me, and he can’t sneak along like I can. If they catch him, they’ll be pretty sure to catch me.”
He started to flee, not from the Indians only, but from the mustang as well. But the speed of the latter was greater than his own, and, after several attempts to dodge him, he gave it up.
“If you can travel so well,” reflected Fred, “you might as well carry me on your back.”
Saying this he leaped upon the animal’s back and gave him free rein. The animal was going it on his own hook and he plunged and labored along for some minutes longer, over the rockiest sort of surface, until he halted of his own accord. The instant he did so Fred leaped to the ground, paused and listened for his pursuers. Nothing but the hurried breathing of the mustang could be heard. The latter held his head well up, with ears thrown forward, in the attitude of attention. But minute after minute passed and the stillness remained unbroken. It looked indeed as if the fugitive horse and boy had found rest for the time, and, so long as the darkness continued, there was no necessity for further flight.