It was not more than twenty-five yards off. I reached around among the rocks at my feet until I found a stone about the size of the baseball that I used to pitch in my old days at school.
As the object stopped and raised up in sudden suspicion I poised myself and fired it with all my strength. My old accuracy had not deserted me. I heard the thud distinctly and the Indian dropped like one dead, a mere black outline on the rock.
Then I saw him being drawn backward almost as it were by invisible hands. I decided not to fire, but crouched low in the rock trail. I did not want to waste a shot, and then I thought the very quietness and mystery of the fellow's injury might impress the superstitious minds of the Apaches and I believe that it did, for I heard no further sound or stir from them.
After a while I decided to go back to the head of the trail and I proceeded cautiously upwards. Just before I reached the top I became conscious that there was something waiting for me. Looking down I recognized the long, familiar face of Coyote.
"Hey, old chap," I said, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder, "so you thought you would start down to see what kept your old boss so long. Well, you can go back and go to sleep. It's all over."
This may have been reassuring to Coyote, but it was not the exact truth, but I could not foresee that. I took my post again at the top of the trail and waited for further developments. I began to think that it was about time for Jim to come forward. At least I knew that I would not have many more hours to wait.
The rain was now coming down less rapidly and there was promise of the storm lifting. If I had not been so wet I might have dropped off to sleep, but if I had done so I would have had a sudden awakening.
No sound came from the Indians below and I had relaxed my keen attention, when I heard a noise that aroused me again. Something was coming up the rock trail. It did not seem to be an Indian but some animal.
It was coming quickly, then it saw me and crouched low with that intense menace that shows in a wild beast before it springs. I raised my gun to fire and something held me back. Then I saw what it was.
"Here, Santa," I cried, "come, old dog."