A gleam of hope shot athwart the faces of the prisoners.
“Dell,” said the scout, “if either one of the prisoners speaks a word, use your revolver on him; and if the Apaches make an attack on us, we’ll put the prisoners in front to receive the first volley; and if luck goes against us, and the Apaches make a surround, if they get Hendricks and Banks we’ll see to it that they get them with their boots on.”
The gleam of hope faded from the faces of Banks and Hendricks and a look of concern took its place.
“Watch them, Dell, you and Cayuse,” finished the scout, leaping to the ground.
Crawling up the slope once more, he peered over the top.
The sun was down and evening was coming on; but, in spite of the hovering shadows, the scout could see the five Apaches from the gulch.
Two were wounded. One had a bandage about his thigh and another about his left arm, and had to be tied to his cayuse in order to stay on the animal’s back.
Grouped about the rock, the Indians were evidently waiting for Banks, whom they had been told to come there and meet.
Returning back down the slope, the scout got astride his horse.
“Can we get to Quicksand Lake, Dell,” he asked, “without crossing the plain in the vicinity of Squaw Rock?”