"That means something," thought Brinton, bringing his rifle round to the front and making ready to use it on the instant if needed. He softly drew the mitten from his right hand.
The gully turned sharply to the left, just ahead, and he knew that Jack had scented danger. But, if so, minute after minute passed and it did not appear. The youth became perplexed, and was in sore doubt whether to push on a little further or turn back.
He gently twitched the rein and touched his heels against the ribs of his pony. He advanced a couple of paces, and stopped as abruptly as before, his head still up, his ears erect, while the snuffing nostrils showed that he was wiser than his rider.
"I'll be hanged if I don't learn the meaning of this," muttered Brinton Kingsland, who, with less discretion than he generally showed, swung himself out of the saddle and moved stealthily forward, with the resolution to learn the cause of Jack's alarm.
And he learned it soon enough.
He had barely time to pass part way round the curve in the arroya, which was unusually winding at that portion, when he came face to face with an Indian horseman.
The animal of the latter, quite as sagacious as Jack's, had detected the presence of a stranger beyond the turn, and halted until the latter revealed himself, or his master decided upon the line to pursue.
Brinton's great blunder was in moving so impatiently through the gully that he was revealed too soon to draw back. Thus it was that it may be said he almost precipitated himself upon the buck before he saw him.
It would be hard to describe Brinton's emotions when on the first startled glance at the solitary Indian he recognised him as Wolf Ear, whom he had encountered but a little while before. The Indian looked fixedly at him, and something like a smile lit up his broad coppery face.
"Thus we meet, Brinton," he said in his low voice; "will you come forward and shake hands?"