Through Apache Land

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

But it would not work. The bear was not born in the woods to be frightened by any such trifles, and, halting for scarcely twenty seconds, he advanced with the calm deliberation of a brute bent upon clearing up the mystery without any unnecessary delay. Instead of giving him the contents of one of the chambers of the revolver, the young hunter drew back within the hollow of the tree, as a turtle is seen to retreat within his shell when affrighted at the approach of some enemy. It was a tight squeeze, but he insinuated himself along the open space until quite sure that he was beyond the reach of the monster. There he found he had barely room to use his arms, but, pointing his weapon toward the opening, he awaited the action of bruin.

There was sufficient moonlight to perceive the opening, but he had scarcely time to glance at it when it was darkened by the bear, which thrust its head in with a thunderous growl that made the lad shiver from head to foot. Certain that it would not do to wait any longer, and believing that he meant to force his entire body through, the sorely frightened Ned discharged one barrel squarely in the face of the bear.

This settled matters. The latter had his snout and enough of his head shoved into the opening to receive a bad wound from the weapon, discharged within a foot or two of his face. He gave a sort of snarling howl, and jerked out his feet so suddenly that he must have injured himself still more by doing so, and, with a relief that can hardly be understood, Ned heard him clawing hastily along the trunk until he reached the land, when he scampered away into the woods, and nothing more was seen of him.

"If I had plenty of ammunition, I would not begrudge that shot," muttered Ned, as he carefully worked his way along the hollow again. "But that leaves me only four shots, and there's no telling how soon I'll have to use the rest."

He found, upon reaching the opening again, that the night was past and the day was breaking. He had obtained a good night's rest, but he was anxious to get ahead.

"I wonder where Lone Wolf is?" he thought, hesitating whether he had better descend from his hiding place or not. "It is all of twelve hours since I ran away and they must have done a good deal of hunting. Some of them have passed close to where I am, and they must be lurking about this very minute."

It was this uncertainty which caused the lad to wait some little time longer before venturing forth. He had been so fortunate up to this time that he could not afford to throw the chances away. When he found that the sun was far above the treetops, however, he began to grow impatient, and finally came to the conclusion that he was losing valuable time. So he began crawling carefully out, with the idea of resuming his flight homeward.

Ned was not yet fairly out from the tree, when he paused, for his ear detected something alarming. It was the soft splash of water, such as is made by a person who is carefully wading along, and it sounded fearfully near to where he was.

He assumed at once, because of the peculiar sound, that it must be caused by some one who was hunting for him, and no one could be hunting for him except some of the Apaches from whom he fled. If any doubt remained in his mind, it was removed a moment later, when he heard a whistle from the same quarter whence came the sound of the wading. The signal was instantly responded to in the same manner by some one upon shore.

"They're Indians," he said. "They know that I must be somewhere in this neighborhood and they've made up their minds to search until they find me."