“Good advice, Bright Star,” admitted the boy readily. “I keep forgetting I’m on this wild, western frontier.”
Accordingly, they stole stealthily down the sandy path toward the mysterious light. They all kept their eyes fixed on the blaze, which burned steadily and grew larger as they advanced.
“That’s the flame from a campfire. I’m fairly certain now,” stated Ben presently; and the others nodded assent.
They paused for a moment and listened intently. Then they continued their advance. Soon they were near enough to know absolutely that it was the light from a campfire. It was obscured, at moments, by dark figures passing before it, and those figures must be men.
“We could make a detour around it,” proposed Ben, as they again made pause.
“Maybe enemy,” Bright Star warned anew.
“Friend or enemy,” whispered Tom determinedly, “I’m going to find out. My bump of curiosity is itching something fierce.”
So they set about stalking the campfire. The sand was so soft now that it gave back no sound at all, and there were bushes in plenty. Presently they were near enough to see that the campfire was large, surrounded by some eight or ten men.
“Injuns!” whispered Ben, as they lay flat in the sand and drew their bodies yet closer.
Lying there among the dark bushes, and with their eyes growing more accustomed to the fitful, flickering fire-light, they made out that the principal figure among the savages was a tall, rugged warrior, forbidding of visage and wild of hair; and with a soiled bandage on one shoulder.