But the most patient, careful listening failed to detect anything, and, leaving the body lying where it had fallen, he went noiselessly to the top where Dick was sleeping. A gentle touch aroused the latter and he instantly rose to his feet. A few words told him all that had happened and then the two hurriedly discussed the scheme which had occurred to Hardynge a short time before. Two minutes only were needed for them to reach a conclusion.
"I'll do it," muttered Tom, as they arose and began picking their way down the path.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A DESPERATE SCHEME.
The two scouts carefully descended until they reached the spot where the dead Apache lay. They moved as noiselessly as shadows until they stood directly by the inanimate form. Then, while Tom Hardynge began adjusting his outer garments, Dick Morris stooped over and drew forth the blanket which was crumpled beneath the dead warrior.
The Apaches and Comanches and different tribes of the southwest nearly always carry their blankets with them when traveling, and when this particular Indian essayed his perilous reconnaissance on a sultry summer night that garment was flung over his shoulders. These savages as a rule, do not wear their hair done up in the defiant scalp-lock form seen among their more northern kindred. It hangs loosely about their heads and shoulders, being ornamented with stained feathers, the hair itself frequently daubed with brilliant paint.
Tom gathered the blanket about him precisely as did the warrior, and then, his own cap being thrown aside, the feathers were stuck in among the tresses with all the skill of the veteran warrior. As he wore leggings the same as the redskin, his tout ensemble was complete. Beneath his blanket he carried his rifle, pistol and knife, and even took the tomahawk from the girdle of the fallen brave, and managed to stow that about his clothing. Even now the two comrades spoke not a word. They merely shook hands in a silent, cordial grasp, and almost immediately became invisible to each other. Dick remained where he was for several minutes, listening and looking, and then, hearing nothing, moved back toward his former position, muttering as he went:
"If anybody can get through 'em, Tom's the boy—but it's a powerful desprit scheme—a powerful desprit one!"
Reaching the top, he crawled again to the margin, and stretched out with his head partly over. Eye-sight was of no avail now, and he depended upon hearing alone, believing that by that means he would be able to learn the success or failure of the maneuver. But not until nearly an hour had passed did he begin to feel anything like a real hope that his comrade had succeeded.