Thereupon he gave the incidents which have already been told the reader, and which drove the last remnants of the dream from Freeman’s thoughts.
“It seems to me,” said the captain, “that what you tell me gives good cause for uneasiness.”
“How so?”
“You have met four of the Apaches at least, or rather you saw them. We thought none of them were near. We must be close to the main party.”
“That does not follow; the one with whom I played hide and seek was a sort of wanderer. He had drifted into this section, and, not liking the look of things, has gone.”
“But he learned that you were here—you a white man, and would not be likely to believe you were alone.”
“I do not see why he should not think so, since he himself was alone. He has known of the water here and concluded that I had come from somewhere to get a drink and was on my return, when we came near running against each other. Remember that we did not meet at the rock where we agreed to await the return of Mendez, so he can know nothing of that.”
“But, if he carries the news to camp, will not the Apaches suspect the truth, or perhaps more than the truth? They will think a party of white men are after my child and become doubly cautious.”
“While it is possible you may be right, I place less importance on the incident than you.”