—The Young Scout.
Mendez and Cemuri made some pretense of wearing civilized costume, though their clothing could hardly have found a purchaser at a second-hand sale. They never covered their heads, the long, coarse black hair dangling about their faces and shoulders, with occasionally a stained feather projecting from the crown. No paint disfigured the countenances, which in fact could not have been made to look uglier, but they had the cartridge belt, trousers and leggings of the cowboy, most of which they would have been glad to dispense with, but respect for the prejudices of their white brethren forbade.
Mendez was glancing toward all points of the compass, in that quick, fitful way named, when he suddenly fixed his eyes on the ridge to the westward. The fact that he did not change his gaze for fully a minute was proof that something had attracted his suspicion, and the faint exclamation which followed was proof that an additional discovery had been made or that the suspicion had become conviction.
The two white men instantly ceased talking and looked at him. He did not turn his head, but peered with the same intensity as at first.
“What do you make of it, Mendez?” asked the lieutenant.
“Huh! ’Pache ober dere,” was the reply, accompanied by a pointing of his dusky finger at the ridge.
The other three were gazing in the same direction. Whether Cemuri was equally fortunate could not be decided, for he gave no sign. Neither the lieutenant nor captain detected anything with the naked eye. The former drew out his fieldglass and directed it at the point of interest, holding it leveled for several minutes.
The ridge like the plain was of sand. Not so much as a mesquite bush was to be seen in any direction. Here and there grew a species of sand grass, which seems to thrive where there is no earth nourishment, while an occasional prickly cactus added to the desolateness of the scene. There was nothing, therefore, to interfere with the vision in any direction.
“I’m blessed if I can see anything unusual!” exclaimed the lieutenant, passing his instrument to Freeman, with the remark, “Maybe you can do better.”