"We've done the work and with ten minutes to spare," said Bill Breakstone, triumphantly, "and now, Phil, another wonderful change in our fortunes has come. If a camel is the ship of the desert, then a horse is the boat of the plains, the long boat, the jolly boat, the row boat, and all the rest of them. Now for the wagon train!"
"Now for the wagon train!" repeated Phil.
CHAPTER VIII
NEW ENEMIES
The two were in splendid spirits. They had escaped great dangers, and they were on horseback once more. It is true, they were somewhat short on armament, but Breakstone took Phil's pistol, while the latter kept the rifle, and they were confident that they could find game enough on the plains until they overtook the wagon train. The horses themselves seemed glad of the companionship of their old masters, and went forward readily and at an easy pace through the woods. They soon found the path by which they had come, and followed it until they crossed the river and reached the site of the camp. But the trail toward the plain lay before them broad and easy.
"They can't have gone long," said Breakstone. "They may have thought that we were merely loitering behind for some purpose of our own and would soon overtake them. A whole train isn't going to linger about for two fellows well mounted and well armed who are supposed to know how to take care of themselves. But, Sir Philip of the Youthful Countenance, I don't think that Middleton and Arenberg would go ahead without us."
"Neither do I," said Phil with emphasis. "I as good as know that they're looking for us in these woods, and we've got to stay behind and find them, taking the risk of Comanches."
"Wherein I do heartily agree with you, and I'm going to take a chance right now. It is likely that the two, after fruitless searches for us, would return here at intervals, and, in a region like this, the sound of a shot will travel far. Fire the rifle, Phil, and it may bring them. It's often used as a signal. If it brings the Comanches instead, we're on our horses, and they're strong and swift."
Phil fired a shot, but there was no response. He waited half an hour and fired a second time, with the same result. After another half hour, the third shot was fired, and, four or five minutes later, Breakstone announced that he heard the tread of hoofs. It was a faint, distant sound, but Phil, too, heard it, and he was confident that it was made by hoofs. The two looked at each other, and each read the question in the other's eye. Who were coming in reply to the call of that third rifle shot, red men or white?
"We'll just draw back a little behind this clump of bushes," said Breakstone. "We can see a long way through their tops, and not be seen until the riders come very close. Then, if the visitors to this Forest of Arden of ours, Sir Philip, are not those whom we wish to see, it's up and away with us."