“Well, bears do that sometimes.”
“It’s so far-off, I can’t quite make out,” said Ned excitedly. “Ah! There’s another—and another. Why, there are six or seven crawling about yonder.”
“Then they’re not likely to be bears,” said Griggs. “Where’s your glass?”
“Up in the lookout. I’ll go and fetch it.”
“Yes, and be smart,” cried Griggs. Then, as the boy hurried away to climb up to the watching place—“I won’t give any alarm yet till we’re quite sure. But if it’s the enemy they’ve some game on there, and there’s going to be more sharp shooting. Chris, my lad, there’s no doubt about it now. There’s a way down from the top of the cliff to that top terrace yonder, and that means there must be a way up to it from below. Your plan’s cutting two ways. It’s giving us a way to get clear of the enemy, and showing us that we’ve been in greater danger than we thought for. Now see what you can make out. Your eyes are younger than mine.”
“Yes, but yours are better trained to see long distances,” replied Chris, as he shaded his eyes and had a good long look, the American changing his position and doing the same.
“I can only see two,” said Chris at last, “and I think they’re men.”
“I can see three,” said Griggs, “and I’m not going to say I think, for I’m sure they’re Indians.”
Chris’s first thought was of his mustang.
“What about the mules and ponies?” he said excitedly.