“Perhaps,” said Griggs shortly; “but what is it they can see?”
“The ponies and mules.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes; there was one of the men, a chief apparently, pointing down at them. I could see it plainly through the glass.”
“Indians, Ned,” whispered Chris. “They must have been following us all this time, and we’re in for it now.”
Chapter Thirty Eight.
Besieged.
Not a word was said then for some minutes, during which the glass was passed from one to the other, and long, excited looks taken at the strong body of bronze, half-nude warriors seated upon their ponies close to the edge of the flat-topped range of cliffs, some four or five hundred feet above the bottom of the depression.