"Come, Jo," he said, decisively, "we will have to run for it, in a few minutes they will cut our trail. We will only lose by waiting."
Here is where Jim showed his qualities as a leader. I would have waited, hoping to escape detection, and leaving the enemy to make the first move and thus losing seconds that were more valuable than hours under ordinary circumstances.
Our ponies were very restless, with ears pricked forward and shifting their front feet, first one and then the other. They knew even though they could not see. We swung silently into the saddles. Our ready rifles lay just in front of us.
"We are going to start now, Jo," said Jim, in a low, confident voice, "the south side of the gully is low, a hundred feet below us. That's where we show up; it will be a surprise for those beggars. When they see us, pick your Indian and fire. Remember to throw yourself to the side of your pony when they fire and run for it."
I was trembling so that I could scarcely keep my teeth from chattering. Jim was naturally brave, but I was just the average as far as courage went. Still I was a boy of high spirit, and I struggled hard to throw off my fear as Jim was giving me his instructions.
Then I thought of what the captain had told us of the bravery of the American soldiers in the Mexican war. Of Grant who was so quiet and fearless. At least I was an American. I pulled myself together and was ready.
"All ready, Jo?" asked Jim.
"Yes," I replied.
I shall never forget the thrill of excitement that went through all my nerves as we started down the gully, Jim in the lead and my horse close on his hindquarters. The north bank was higher and still screened us, though we bent down to avoid any possibility of being seen.
Just as we turned out of the gully we heard a great powwow. The Apaches had found the place where the antelope had been killed. We were now on the plain in full sight. It seemed to me that we loomed up twice as big as life. We were absolutely stripped naked now of the protection of the gully.