But whither? That was the question on every tongue.
“I have a misgiving,” said Maurice Freeman to Lieutenant Decker, “that when Geronimo learned we were here, he made a detour and has passed over into the valley after all.”
“I sympathize with you, captain, for you cannot help feeling anxious about your family, but none of the boys believe the thing probable.”
“Of course they would not make the raid with the idea of coming back this way, but they could turn southward toward the Apache Mountains and escape.”
“Not without giving us a chance, which they don’t mean to give,” was the remark of the young officer, uttered with such confidence that it lessened the uneasiness of the ranchman.
Sweeping over a slight elevation in front they came in sight of the ridge behind which the raiders were discovered on the preceding day. Mendez, who as guide was riding slightly in advance, turned his dusky face and looked at the lieutenant with an odd half smile.
“What is it, old fellow?”
“’Pache dere!” was the thrilling response.
“It can’t be possible that they intend to make a stand,” reflected Decker, bringing his glass to his eyes; “that would be too much like honorable warfare.”