[Chapter XVIII.]
An Old Acquaintance.
All this was grist for Mickey and Fred. The long silence and inaction—so far as these two were concerned—of the Apaches convinced the fugitives that some important interruption was going on, and that it could not fail to operate in the most direct way in their favor. It was well into the afternoon when the collision occurred between them and the Apaches, and enough time had already passed to bring the night quite close at hand. An hour or so more, and darkness would be upon them.
“I don’t belave the spalpeens have found put just the precise spot where we’ve stowed away,” said Mickey, in his cautious undertone, to his companion, “for I’ve no evidence that such is the case.”
“They may take it into their heads to come into the fissure again, and then where are we?”
“Right here, every time. We couldn’t get a better spot, unless it might be at the mouth.”
“Don’t you think we had better go there?” asked the lad, who could not feel the assurance of his friend.
“I see nothing to be gained by the same, as Tim O’Loony said when some one told him that honesty was the best policy. If we start to return there, they’ll find out where we are, and begin to roll stones on us. I don’t want to go along, dodging rocks as big as a house, wid an occasional rifle-shot thrown in, by way of variety.”
“Don’t you fear they will creep in and try to surprise us?”