Cayuse had not the least idea why he was to follow the Apache who had shot the arrow into the office door. He had received his orders direct from Pa-e-has-ka, however, and that was enough for him.
As he crossed the rim of the valley in which lay the buildings of the Three-ply Mine, the roar of the mill-stamps was muffled by the wind, and his quick ear could distinguish a fall of hoofs from somewhere up the arroyo.
To pile his little heap of quartz “float” took him but a few moments, and then he started along the arroyo at a run.
If the Apache rode at speed, Cayuse knew that he would not be able to come anywhere near him. But this did not discourage the boy. He would run out the trail as far as he could, and when he gave up it would be because no one else—not even Pa-e-has-ka himself—could have followed it any farther.
In his trailing, he had much better luck than he had expected. While he was dodging on along the arroyo he heard the yelp of a wolf—not of a real wolf, but an imitation by a human being.
He was approaching a bend in the arroyo, and this yelp, which was clearly a signal, caused him to approach the bend with more than usual caution.
This was well for him; since presently, from behind a shoulder of rock, he was able to peer out and see a mounted Apache, waiting for another who was riding down the arroyo’s bank.
The Indian Cayuse had been following had a bow and quiver slung at his back. The bow was still bent, showing that the Apache had not yet taken the time to unstring it. Aside from the bow and arrows, both Apaches were likewise armed with rifles.
They met in the arroyo’s bottom, exchanged a few words, and started on again. They looked behind them carefully, but they did not see Cayuse. At that moment the boy was busily engaged laying his quartz pieces on the ground, not only showing his course, but informing any one who might follow that the first Apache had been joined by another.
The Apaches rode at a leisurely gait on into the gulchlike gash into which the arroyo presently changed.