"Be it so," Don Pablo said; "but once on firm ground, what road shall we follow, as we have no horses? Come, Sunbeam, can you give us any advice on that head?"
"Listen," the young squaw said; "the Apaches are preparing for a great expedition. They have called under arms all their brethren; and more than three thousand warriors are traversing the prairie in every direction at this moment. Their war parties hold all the paths. Two nations alone would not respond to the invitation of the Apaches: they are the Comanches and the Navajos. The villages of my tribe are not far off, and I can try to lead you to them."
"Very good," Don Pablo answered. "From what you tell us, the riverbanks are guarded. Going up the Gila in a canoe is impossible, because within two hours we should be inevitably scalped. I am therefore of opinion that we should proceed by the shortest road to the nearest Comanche or Navajo village. But, to do that, we require horses, for we must let no grass grow under our feet."
"Only one road is open," Sunbeam said, firmly.
"Which?" Don Pablo asked.
"The one that crosses the Apache camp."
"Hum!" Valentine muttered, "That seems to me very dangerous. We are only seven, and two of them are women."
"That is true," Eagle-wing remarked, who had hitherto been silent; "but it is, at the same time, the road which offers the best chances of success."
"Let us hear your plan, then," Valentine asked.
"The Apaches," the sachem went on, "are numerous; they believe us crushed and demoralised by the critical position in which we are. They will never suppose that five men will have the audacity to enter their camp; and their security is our strength."