"Gone, have they?" said Bill. "And we don't know any more about 'em than we did before. What'll Captain Skinner say?"
"What'll we say to him? That's what beats me. And to the boys? I don't keer to tell 'em we was whipped in a minute and tied up by an old man, a boy, two girl squaws, and a redskin."
"It don't tell well, that's a fact."
It was the truth, however, and the three miners rode away up the pass in a decidedly uncomfortable frame of mind.
Murray had beckoned Steve to follow him, and they had slipped away among the rocks and bushes, but not too far to see what became of the three miners.
"They might have kept their word, Steve, and they might not. We were at their mercy, standing out there. They could have shot us from the cover."
"Oh, they are white men—not Indians. They never would do such a thing as that!"
"Wouldn't they! Didn't you hear him confess that they were trying to steal your mine? And didn't he say they were robbers, running away with stolen gold? Murderers, too? That's the kind of white men that stir up nine-tenths of all the troubles with the Indians. Let alone the Apaches: that tribe never did keep a treaty."
"The one we saw to-day looked like a Lipan."
"So he did, and he stood right up for the girls. He's a brave fellow. And, Steve, one of those young squaws was no more an Indian than you or I be. It makes my heart sore and sick to think of it. A fine young girl like that, with such an awful life before her!"