Fifteen minutes later, on pausing and waiting a few moments, Kissie heard them gallop by in the darkness, not ten rods away. Then she turned and rode for an hour in an opposite direction; for the present she was safe.
Alighting, she left Dimple to graze at will on the scanty herbage; and, conscious the timid mustang would awaken her by stamping, should danger come, lay down, and, completely worn out, fell into a light, troubled sleep.
The chase had not amounted to much—the odds, large ones, being in her favor; but while she had escaped from them, she had ridden many miles further from her friends.
Alone in the desert, guarded by the wary, timid pony, she slept; and the night was dark and gloomy in the Land of Silence—for she was within its ghostly border.
CHAPTER IV.
CIMARRON JACK.
As the first gray streaks of dawn slanted across the eastern horizon, the little camp on the Gila was astir, and the members were bustling about. Anxious faces they were; their movements were hurried and nervous; and the general aspect of the camp was one of alarm and anxiety.
There is evidently a great commotion in camp; ever and anon the men scan the surrounding horizon; and one and all wear the same anxious look; what is the matter?
The question is answered almost as soon as asked, as a cry arises from one of the watchers. The others start to their feet (they are at present bolting a hasty breakfast) and following their companion’s gaze see a horseman coming along the river bank. He is quite near, having been coming under the bank, and consequently unseen by them.
“Simpson! the guide!” shout one or two voices; then two others add, with a groan, “and alone.”