FOR the first time since joining the Texans in the pursuit of Bell Rickard and his captive, Herbert Watrous found himself entirely alone. He was lying on his face in the grass, at the top of the elevation, peering out in the night, and watching and listening for signs of friends and enemies.
It was not until the Texans had been gone several minutes that he began to fancy his own situation was threatened with the same peril that had overtaken Eph Bozeman, the trapper.
“They were never certain the Apaches didn’t find out we were here,” he thought, “and they may have been wrong in thinking that warrior did not observe us. If those people are as cunning as I have been told, who can say that their actions were not meant to[267] throw two such experienced hunters as Strubell and Lattin off their guard?”
This was figuring matters to a fine point, and the result was that Herbert reasoned himself into a most uncomfortable frame of mind before his friends had been absent a quarter of an hour.
“I have half a mind to go out and mount Jill,” he added, “and move off somewhere else; I would do it if the chances were not that I would ride into a worse place than this—my gracious!”
He was looking in the direction of the mission building, when something assumed form in the darkness immediately in front. Like the figure that caught the notice of Lattin at about the same time, the outlines were so indistinct that he could not identify it at first, but, with amazement and alarm, he speedily saw that a horseman had halted at the foot of the slope, with the face of himself and steed turned toward him. They were as motionless as if carved in stone, and their approach had been accompanied with no sound that reached the ear of Herbert.
[268]
There was something so uncanny in the apparition that, after first identifying it, the youth suspected it was a mistake, and that something affected his vision. He turned his gaze away, and even looked behind him. The result was similar to that which is noticeable when we gaze at the Pleiades on a clear night. Keen scrutiny shows but six stars, one modestly withdrawing before our ardent gaze, to reappear when we glance carelessly in the direction again.
Bringing back his eyes from their groping, Herbert saw the horseman so plainly that no room for doubt remained. He was there at the foot of the slope, apparently staring upward in the darkness with the same intensity that the lad was studying him.
There was no room for hoping that this stranger was a friend, for none of them had left the spot with his animal. It followed, therefore, that he was an Apache out for mischief, since that was the only errand that ever took those miscreants abroad.
“I believe it is the same one that rode to the top of the elevation just before night,[269]” thought Herbert; “he saw enough to know something is wrong, and is now seeking to find out for himself. He mustn’t interfere with me,” added the youth, compressing his lips, as he brought his rifle round in front.
Had the Apache made a charge upon him, Herbert would have let fly without an instant’s hesitation. He was inclined to fire as it was; but, like the manly boy that he had become, he shrank from doing that which looked so much like a crime. Villainous as were the red men, he could not force himself to shoot one down in so heartless a fashion.
Besides, there was the possibility that the Indian did not know that anyone was on the elevation. Indeed, it might be said that the very appearance as described was evidence that he lacked such knowledge, for he had placed himself in a peril which one of his tribe would be sure to avoid. Herbert therefore decided to await more positive evidence of wrong intent before making any movement against the fellow.
His heart gave a quick throb when he discovered[270] that the horseman was advancing. He heard the sound of his pony’s hoofs, followed by a more distinct outlining of both.
“I do believe I shall have to drop him,” thought Herbert, “and I wouldn’t wait any longer if I wasn’t afraid that it would bring the rest to the ............