“Whew! look there—look yonder!”
They followed the direction of his pointing finger with their gaze. Up the draw, and in its widest part, were nearly a dozen Apaches, or rather parts of them, moving rapidly about. They were visible from their waists upward, and their arms were tossing as if violently excited. The light of the yellow moon made this a most grotesque spectacle, but an utterly incomprehensible one to the whites, who watched them eagerly. It appeared as if a dozen Apaches had been deprived of their legs at the loins, and had been cast into the draw and were tossing their arms in agony. Part of them were upright, part bending their necks forward, while others were bent backward; and all were gesticulating violently.
It was strange, but they were all facing the west, at right angles to the course of the draw. Though wildly gesturing, and, as it seemed, struggling, they preserved the utmost silence, frequently gazing toward the whites, as if fearful of attracting their notice.
“What can it mean?” asked Sam, utterly confounded. “What does it all mean?”
“I think I know,” replied Jack, after a moment’s sober scrutiny; “don’t you, Simpson?”
“Yes—think so.”
“What is it?” and Robidoux’s face wore a look of the most intense surprise.
“By Jupiter—hooray! it is, it is! look, they are sinking.”
It was even so! Each and all were only visible from the breast upward, now, and their rifles, still clasped tightly, were thrown about in wild and vehement motions; the guide uttered a sharp exclamation.
“Quicksanded—quicksanded! see—the draw is darker than at t’other places. It’s the black sand—quicksand—hooray!”