The Indians were evidently looking down at something in front of the ranges of openings which formed the old-world city, and it took no thinking, after the party were once confident that they were not seen, to decide what it was that took the attention of the roving tribe.
It was Chris who repeated Wilton’s words.
“They’re watching the mules and ponies,” he said. “I saw one fellow point at them when I had the glass to my eyes.”
“And that is as good as saying that they are watching us,” said Ned sadly.
“Oh no,” cried the doctor. “They can see some beasts grazing in this verdant bottom; they can’t tell at this distance that they are not wild.”
“Why, father,” said Chris, “they have been hunting us for long enough.”
“My dear boy, do you suppose that there is only one roving band of Indians in all these thousands of square miles of wild country?”
“I—I—don’t know, father,” was the reply.
“Then you may take it as highly probable that these are not the Indians we saw before.”
“But they know that the mules and ponies are tame.”