It was this deliberation which gave Ned his only chance. The rein was unfastened at last, and, with a desperate effort he mounted the mustang, which came very near bounding from beneath him while in the act of springing upward, and, turning his head toward the southwest, the very direction he wished to follow, Chadmund struck his sides with his heels, gave a regular Indian shout and was off. The steed scarcely needed all this to incite him to his highest efforts. Stretching out his neck, he sped away like an arrow, while the young rider constantly urged him to still greater effort. But no urging was required. The fleet-footed courser was already going with the speed of the wind.
Scarcely had he gotten under way, however, when the crack! crack! of rifles was heard, and the singing of bullets around his ears told the fugitive at whom they were aimed. He instantly threw himself forward upon the neck of the mustang, and shouted again, in a voice that must have been heard by the redskins themselves:
"Go it, my horse! Don't let them catch us! We mustn't lose now!"
One or two more shots were heard, and then all was quiet again.
"We've got beyond their range," concluded the boy, "and there's no need of wasting their powder on us."
Still he remained with his head bent on the neck of his animal, the latter upon a dead run, until they had gone a considerable distance further. Then believing all peril past, he drew him down somewhat, for the gait was more trying to him than to the steed himself, and it was simply prudent to husband his strength, when there was no necessity of putting it forth.
For the first time since starting, Ned turned and surveyed the ground over which he had passed. The view was not a reassuring one by any means. Instead of seeing the Apaches standing in mute despair upon the margin of the grove, and staring in wonder at his flight, he saw instead the whole party mounted and in full pursuit. They were adopting what seemed to him a strange course. Instead of charging along in a body, they were separating and spreading out like a fan.
"I wonder what it is for," said the fugitive to himself, as he urged his horse to a renewal of the arrowy speed he had shown at the beginning.
When he came to reflect upon it more fully, he divined the cause. The Apaches had recognized in him a prize worth striving for, and had set about it in their usual cunning fashion. By separating in this manner, they could close in again whenever they chose, and at a time, too, when it might be out of the power of the fugitive to escape by means of the superior speed of his horse. If he should turn to the right or left, or to the rear, he would come in collision with some of them, whereas, if they remained in a compact body, and he should find his way shut in front, he might elude them by turning to either side.
Such was young Chadmund's solution of their actions, and such, undoubtedly, was the true one. He looked ahead; but all remained open and clear. Only far away in the very horizon could be seen that blue, misty outline of some mountain chain, seemingly hundreds of miles in advance.