The trapper pointed toward a pile of wooded hills, in which direction every eye was immediately drawn, without discovering, however, the “signs” to which he alluded.
“They’re there,” he added, “and I’ve had a half a dozen glimpses of ’em since we started. It won’t be long before you all see ’em.”
In confirmation of the hunter’s words, at this moment a couple of mounted Indians were seen to come forth from the wood and undergrowth, ride to the bottom of the hill, where they halted as if waiting for something. The next moment a half a dozen followed them until ten were gathered together upon their gaudily-caparisoned mustangs.
The next moment, they commenced riding at an easy gallop toward the expectant train.
“By jingo! they’re going to tackle us!” exclaimed Leonidas Swipes in considerable excitement, and with the hope of alarming those around him.
“Hardly,” replied Fred, “Apaches don’t do things in that style; they generally take the night time and steal upon their enemies unawares.”
“But what does it all mean?”
“Such an approach in broad day generally means peace.”
“But—but—” persisted Swipes, as if unable to comprehend what it all meant; “the Apaches are not on friendly terms with us.”
“When it suits their purpose it may be so.”