CHAPTER XXVIII.
A GREAT MISFORTUNE.
Ned Chadmund was too wise to go contrary to the instincts of the mustang, which, at such a time knew more than did he of the dangers of the country. The boy, however, supposed that it was some wild animal, probably a grizzly bear, which alarmed the steed. He wondered however, that if such were the fact, why the brute did not give some more tangible evidence of his presence. He sat for a moment debating whether he should make an attempt to enter the wooded ravine from another direction. He had fixed upon this place as the one in which to spend a couple of hours or more, and as no similar resting-place was in sight, he was reluctant to start ahead again. But something whispered to him that the best thing he could do would be to leave without an instant's delay. That strange stillness resting upon those stunted trees and undergrowth had a meaning more significant than anything in the shape of a grizzly bear.
"Come, Pet, we're off again."
The mustang wheeled to one side, and bounded away with the old speed, which was more enjoyable to him than a moderate pace. At the very instant of doing so, a mounted Apache shot out from the far end of the ravine, and his horse bounded directly across the path of the young fugitive. The steed of the latter saw the game so well that he needed no direction, and he turned with such suddenness that Ned narrowly escaped being thrown off his back. Quick as he was he had scarcely time to change the direction he was pursuing, when the rider, to his dismay, observed a second Apache issue from the other end of the ravine, and thus, in a twinkling, as it may be said, he was placed between two fires.
It all took place with such marvelous suddenness that the lad was completely baffled and bewildered, and, not knowing what to do, wisely left the course of action to the mustang. At the same moment, he comprehended how it was that, while he assured himself that he had outwitted the Apaches, they had completely checkmated him. Their falling back and giving up the chase was simply a ruse to throw him off his guard. It had succeeded to perfection. While he was plodding along over the prairie, the Apaches had circled around, gone ahead of him, and, ensconcing themselves in the woods, had patiently waited for him to ride into their arms.
The sagacious mustang made another quick whirl, and shot to the right, aiming to pass directly between the two horsemen. Seeing this, they both did their best to head him off. At the best it was to be a narrow chance, and Ned again threw himself forward and clasped his arms about the neck of the faithful pony. He could not shut out the sight of his ferocious pursuers, and as the three neared each other with the speed of the whirlwind, he observed that each was loosely swinging several coils of rope about his head. He knew what that meant. Determined upon capturing him, they were about to call the lasso into requisition.
But they could not "noose" him when his head was thrown forward in this fashion, and resting closely against the soft mane of the mustang. He was certain of that, for there was nothing for the spinning coil to seize. And yet he saw distinctly the warrior who was nearest him whirling the thong in swifter and swifter circles above his head in a way that showed that he meant to fling it at something.
What could the target be?