Suddenly he heard the hoof-strokes come to a halt. On the instant Little Cayuse drew rein and backed silently into a cranny of the hills.
Was Bernritter coming back to see whether he was being followed?
He did not show himself, however; nor did the hoofs of his horse resume their clatter.
Cayuse dismounted and slipped forward along the gully to investigate.
Before he had gone far he heard voices, one voice Bernritter’s, and the other unmistakably that of an Indian.
The Piute had no love for the Apaches, and a thrill shot through him as he realized that this redskin with whom the superintendent was talking must be one of the hated people.
Then Cayuse had another thought: Why was Bernritter talking with an Apache—holding with him a pow-wow that had already lasted several minutes?
Little Cayuse crawled closer, slipping through the loose stones like a snake.
When he paused again, he was as near the two men as he dared to go. One was an Apache, and the boy was not slow to realize that his danger was greater than if he had been lying in the vicinity of two white men.