"Boys," said Captain Skinner, "I'll try the next ford myself. I was half afraid of that."
Every man of them understood just what had happened, and knew that it was of no use for them to do anything but ride along down the bank.
There was not a great deal farther to go before a sharp string of exclamations ran along the line.
"See there!"
"Camp-fires yonder!"
"That's the Apache village!"
"It's on the other shore!"
"Hark, boys! Hear that—off to the northward? There's a fight going on. Ride now. We're away in behind it."
Captain Skinner was right again. By pushing on along the bank of the river he was soon in full view of the village, but there was very little of it to be seen at that time of night.
At the same time, just because he was so near it, he ran almost no risk at all of meeting any strong force of Apaches. The sound of far-away fighting had somehow ceased, but the Captain did not care to know any more about it.