There could be no doubt on that point, and without any more delay he left the creature and began toiling up the ascent, his Winchester firmly in his grasp, and as alert as ever for the sudden appearance of his enemies.
An astounding surprise was at hand.
He had penetrated but a short distance from his starting point when he became aware that someone else was in the vicinity. He caught only a flitting glimpse of a person, who, descrying him at the same instant, whisked behind a bowlder for protection. Warren was equally prompt, and the two dodged out of each other's sight in a twinkling.
"If there is only one Indian," reflected the young rancher, "I ought to be able to take care of myself—great Heavens!"
The exclamation was caused by the sight of Tim Brophy, who stepped from behind the shelter and walked toward him.
Young Starr was astounded, and believed for a minute that his friend had been put forward as a decoy, and that his captors were immediately behind him. But that dread was removed the next moment by the appearance of the young Irishman, who, advancing jauntily, called out in his cheery voice:
"It's all roight, me boy! None of the spalpeens are here, and it's mesilf that would like to shake ye by the hand."
That the two warmly grasped hands and greeted each other need not be stated. Even then Warren could only murmur:
"Why, Tim, this is the greatest surprise of my life! Where in the name of the seven wonders did you come from? and how came you to give them the slip?"
"It was that which helped me out," replied the other, holding up his clenched fist; "it b'ats all other wippons whin ye git into a tight corner."