CHAPTER XIII.
THE FLIGHT.
Ned had enough sense not to undertake to run away from the Apaches until there was a reasonably good chance of succeeding. He had played the game of lameness so well that he had secured considerable liberty thereby; and when, therefore, he went limping beyond the further limit of the Indians, no one supposed he had any other purpose in view than to obtain a better place in which to help himself to water. The trees among which he entered were almost without undergrowth, and, fortunately, were in exactly the opposite direction from where the mustangs were grazing. This left the way entirely open for him to do his utmost in the way of his dash for freedom. It may seem to have been unfortunate in the one thing, that it caused the lad to go away without his horse; but he would have left the latter had he been given his chance, for he believed that while the trail of the animal could be followed without trouble, and might secure his being run to the ground in the end, yet he could readily find the means of hiding his own footsteps from the most skillful of the Apaches.
It is hardly necessary to say that the instant he found himself beyond the immediate sight of his captors, his lameness disappeared as if by magic, and he dashed down the stream with all the speed at his command. After running nearly two hundred yards he suddenly paused and listened. Nothing could be heard but his own hurried breathing and throbbing heart.
"They haven't found out anything about me yet," was his hurried exclamation, as he started off again, continually ejaculating a prayer that he might succeed, for he needed no one to tell him that it was really a matter of life and death; for, if Lone Wolf should place hands upon him again, he would never forgive the attempt.
A hundred yards further in this headlong fashion, and all at once he found himself at the termination of the wood, which had been such an advantage to him thus far. On the right and left, over the high, precipitous mountains back of him, was the small wood, on the other border of which was the Apache camp. The gorge or valley, in the center of which he found himself standing, wound in and out among the mountains before him,—a Devil's Pass on a smaller scale,—so sinuous in its course that he could trace it only a short distance ahead with the eye. Directly at his side flowed a mountain stream, varying from a dozen to twenty feet in width, so clear that in every place he could see distinctly the bottom. The current was quite swift, and in some places it dashed and foamed over the rocks almost like a cascade.
Ned dared not hesitate, but, pausing only an instant to catch breath, he dashed away again until he reached the curve in the ravine, beyond which he would be hid from view of the encampment. The moment this was reached he paused long enough to cast back a searching glance. But all looked as calm and peaceful as if no human being had ever entered the ravine.
"They haven't found it out yet! They haven't found it out yet!" he exclaimed, his heart rising with hope. "That was a pretty smart thing in me to pretend to be lame, and if it hadn't been for that I wouldn't have got half the start."
Passing the turn in the ravine, he felt that it would not do to wait any longer without some effort to hide his trail. There was but one feasible way of accomplishing this, and that was by entering the stream and keeping along it far enough to throw the wolves off the scent. It was not a very pleasant task to enter the water and move along, where, at any moment, he was liable to drop down over his head; but he did not dare to stand upon trifles, and in he went. By keeping close to the shore, he managed to avoid any such unpleasant ducking, while at the same time he effectually hid his footsteps from the eyes of the keenest-sighted Indian. A short distance ahead he found the trees were growing fully as thickly as in the grove which he had left but a short time before, and he made all haste thither, continually glancing back, dreading least he should catch sight of some of the Apaches on the hunt for him.
Imagine his consternation, when, on the very margin of the wood, he looked back and saw the forms of two Indians only a short distance away! They were mounted upon their mustangs and riding at a walk almost in a direct line toward him, and, as he stared at them he was sure that their slow pace was due to their careful scrutiny of the trail which he was satisfied he must have left.