"It sounded like two rifle shots close together," I answered. "Now, we are in for it. We never will escape the Apaches this time."
"Ho, ho," laughed Jim. "Apaches! That was the captain's rifle as sure as I stand here. That was no old carbine."
We waited, listening intently. Then we fired two shots apiece simultaneously. Then in a minute came the answering signal. Two rifles this time.
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! Whoop la," we yelled. It seemed to me the most joyful moment of my life. The captain and Tom found again after the terrible perils we had been through.
We urged our ponies in the direction of the shots and Santa sprang away in the lead. He would be the first to welcome the captain and Tom. In five minutes we saw the dark outlines of two mounted men and two horses following.
We met on the spur of the mountain with only the livid light of a burning pine nearby to enable us to distinguish each other. The captain swung from his horse and gripped Jim by the hand, then he took my hand likewise. "Well met," he exclaimed.
For a moment there was silence, then Jim spoke up.
"That was a deuce of a big fire you started, captain," he said. "You must have been pretty cold."
The captain smiled grimly.
"I could tell that was you from that remark, but your appearance is deceiving. You look considerably like a nigger."