He had seated himself in the darkness to watch the stars slowly seeming to pass from east to west, and as he said half-aloud those words about being alone he slowly fingered the revolver-holster on one side of his belt and the hunting-knife in its sheath, which done, he pulled at the strap which slung his rifle, and getting it round to the front he rested it upon his knees, and began mechanically to examine the breech as if to make sure that he had cartridges in each barrel.
They were there safe enough, and he closed the breech and was about to drag the piece into its regular place again; but something struck him which made him get the rifle back into position, re-open the breech, and take out one of the cartridges, before opening his pouch and exchanging it for another.
A curious sensation ran through the boy’s frame as he did this. He felt uncomfortable and as if he were about to do some wrong thing, for the cartridge he withdrew was filled with number six shot such as he would use for killing small birds that they could use for their meals, while the one he inserted in its place contained a long conical bullet, and he knew he was not putting that ready in case he should encounter a bear.
He would not own it to himself—he dreaded to think about it—but all the while he could not help feeling that it must be a duty to defend his own life, and certainly was one to try and protect his father and his friends.
But Chris Lee was uncomfortable all the same, and tried hard to keep all such thoughts back, as he once more began to watch the stars, and listened to the crop, crop of the pony, which seemed to be revelling in the soft, dew-wet grass, whose pleasant odour rose to his nostrils as the animal kept on uttering the familiar blowing sound to drive away insects before nibbling off tufts and grinding them between its fine teeth.
“Poor fellow,” he said softly; “he saved my life.”
And then he remarked to himself upon its being strange that the mustang did not go far away from him, but evidently preferred grazing round and round as if it were pleasanter to keep close to its companion, man.
It was a long, long time, during which, without once feeling the want of rest, Chris still watched the stars, before he uttered a sigh of relief, for they were certainly growing paler and there was a faint suggestion of light just where, he reflected, the east would lie. Moreover, he was where he had hoped he might find himself, and that was not far from opposite the piece of terraced cliff where he hoped that his friends might be.
He went at once to the pony and led it with him, now moving very cautiously for fear of danger, towards the edge of the cliff, in the hope that as it grew lighter some one might catch sight of him and wave him a signal that he might take as a piece of advice.
But it was still dark below, and he knew the folly of expecting to see any one looking up to where he stood, feeling in his heart that it was far more likely that they might be lying in wait for his return far away towards the entrance of the gully, ready to cover his retreat if he made an attempt to rush in.