Through Apache Land

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

He had lain on the ground under the protecting shadow of a rock but a short time when his eye rested upon something which convinced him that he was not the only one in the valley. Looking dreamily off toward the west, up the valley, with the mountains sloping down on the right and left, he noticed what at first seemed a thin bluish cloud, resting against the sky. Then he observed that its form was a little out of the usual order, it being column-shaped, tall, and like a shaft of almost invisible vapor, thrown against the white background beyond.

"That ain't a cloud," he suddenly exclaimed, starting to his feet and scrutinizing it more closely. "It's the smoke from a camp fire and I've got to go right by it."

There could be no doubt of the truth of what he said, and he became deeply interested.

"I wonder whether they're Indians or white men? I suppose it's most likely they are Apaches, and they may be Lone Wolf and his companions. I've got to keep a sharp lookout and keep from running into them. If they are white hunters, that I've heard are sometimes in these mountains, it will be a lucky thing for me."

Somehow or other he became impressed with the idea that the camp fire ahead of him was that of friends instead of enemies—that the assistance which he so sorely needed was thus placed within his reach. He had learned, long before, that one is apt to miscalculate the distance when placed as he was; but, making allowance for all that, he was confident that the camp fire was not more than a mile away. Yielding to a natural curiosity to learn its meaning, he shortened the hour which he had intended to devote to rest, and started ahead again.

Once or twice it seemed to him that he had dropped into some sort of trail, which he was following. Here and there were traces showing that the route had been traveled before. It seemed to be one of those natural roads or passes which are found at intervals in all great mountain chains, and without which, many of of them for vast distances would be literally impassable for man or animal.

The conviction that he was not the pioneer over that section caused the young wanderer some misgivings and suggested several discomforting questions. If Apaches had used the trail already, might not some of them be upon it? If some of them were coming from the opposite direction, how was he to avoid running into their arms? These queries were not of the most cheerful character and they served to tone down the enthusiasm which had marked his start in the morning. They also caused him to examine, more times than was really necessary, the revolver which had already done him such good service, and he went through a preliminary drill, consisting of placing it inside his waistcoat, a couple of buttons being left carelessly unfastened; next thrusting his hand within, in an indifferent manner, then instantly jerking out and pointing the weapon at an imaginary foe in front of him. This maneuver he repeated scores of times, narrowly escaping the firing of the weapon, until he satisfied himself that he could do it to perfection.

"Now, if Lone Wolf comes at me alone, I think I can manage him. He won't suspect that I've any weapon, and so won't be prepared for it; but I hope he won't show himself," he added the next minute. "If there's any way of avoiding him, I'll do it."

However, he was bent upon solving the mystery of the distant camp fire, which he still hoped might belong to some party of white hunters, who would take him under their protection and conduct him safely over the wide and dangerous stretch of territory which still intervened between him and his destination.

In spite of the careful calculation he had made, he soon learned that he had committed an error. Although the tell-tale smoke at first seemed scarcely a mile away, it was more than three times that distance. The way being more obstructed by rocks and the sinuous winding of the trail, he saw the sun sinking low in the west and found that he had still no little traveling to do.