CHAPTER XXVII.
A RUN FOR LIFE.
A few minutes' ride at a swinging, easy, gallop brought Ned to the edge of the grove where the camp fire had first arrested his attention. As he reached the margin he threw himself from the back of the mustang, fastened the bridle-rein securely to a limb, and, with his rifle slung over his shoulder, strode forward toward the center. He was not yet in sight of the fire when it suddenly occurred to him that possibly he was mistaken. He checked himself and began moving very much as he did when approaching his mustang, and it was fortunate that he did so, for the next moment he discovered that he had committed a most serious mistake indeed. Instead of seeing the well-known figures of the hunters sitting by the camp fire and quietly smoking their pipes, he caught a glimpse of half a dozen warriors very similarly engaged.
Ned shuddered as he reflected how narrowly he escaped running into destruction, and then he crept forward until he could get a little better view. There they were, six Apache Indians lolling and lounging upon the grass. They had evidently returned from a long and wearisome ride, and were devoting the early portion of the day to rest, both for themselves and animals, which were picketed near at hand. The lad naturally wondered whether any of them belonged to Lone Wolf's band, and he crept nearer than was prudent in order to make certain.
"It may be that Lone Wolf himself is there," he reflected, drawn on by that strange fascination which often seizes a person at the proximity of some dreaded danger. "It would be queer if the chief had crossed my path again."
By and by, after moving along for some distance upon his hands and knees, he secured a favorable point, where, by waiting a few minutes, he was able to gain a view of all the faces. They were all strangers. He had never seen any of them before.
"That's good," he said to himself, as he began retrograding, "they won't be expecting me—"
At this juncture, one of the Indian horses, a short distance away, raised his head and whinnied. It was instantly responded to by the mustang which Ned had ridden to the place. The Apaches very naturally noticed this significant fact, and started to their feet to learn what it meant. Terribly alarmed at the unexpected mishap, Ned sprang up, not daring to trust the tardy, crab-like gait he was following, and, regardless of discovery, dashed away as hard as he could run in the direction of his steed. He could not mistake the true course, for the animal seemingly aware that something was wrong, kept up a continual whinnying, that guided him as unerringly as it did the Apaches who were hurrying after him. A few seconds and the boy stood beside the creature, which showed, by its excited manner, that he was as desirous as his master to leave the spot. He was tugging at the rein so lustily that it threatened to break every instant, and Ned trembled at the fear that he would be left alone.
The impatient, eager haste with which the rein was unfastened, the seemingly impossibility of getting the loosely fastened knot untied, the little obstructions that constantly obtruded themselves—these cannot be described nor imagined. It would have been unnatural in the highest degree had Ned not found himself "nervous." He was ready to yield to despair more than once, and what were really seconds were as many minutes to him. The Indians could be heard moving through the undergrowth, their progress cautious as it always is when they have reason to fear that enemies are close at hand.