"Ugh! Good! Fight Apaches. Then pale-faces take care of themselves. Give them one day after fight."
That was the sort of treaty that was made, and it saved the lives of Bill and his mates, for the present at least.
It was all Captain Skinner could have expected, but the faces of the miners were sober enough over it.
"Got to help fight Apaches, boys."
"And lose one wagon, and only have a day's start afterward."
The chief had at once ridden back to announce the result to his braves, and they too received it with a sullen approval, which was full of bitter thoughts of what they would do to those pale-faces after the Apaches should be beaten and the "one day's truce" ended.
The three captives were at once set at liberty, their arms restored to them, and they were permitted to return to the camp and pick out, saddle, and mount their own horses.
"The Captain's got us out of our scrape," said Bill. "I can't guess how he did it."
"Must ha' been by shootin' first."
"And all the boys do shoot so awful straight!"