To-la-go-do-de had all the pride of an Indian chief, but he had good reasons for respecting Captain Skinner. He had seen him handle his men in a fight, and he had talked with him afterward, and he knew that he had not beaten the Captain in either case. Now, therefore, that they were to go on a war-path together, he was not at all above a consultation with so wise and brave a leader.

For his own part, he had decided upon the right policy to follow. He had told his older warriors, "The pale-faces are cunning. The Lipans must be wise. Suppose the Apaches kill many pale-faces. Ugh! Good. Lipans kill rest of them very easy. Not so many to kill."

He was right about the Captain's "cunning," for it was a good deal like his own "wisdom," and it had been expressed to his men in the same way.

"The Apaches are strong enough to beat them and us too, and they'll be on the lookout. We mustn't throw ourselves away, boys. We must get separated somehow. There won't be enough Lipans left to follow us far."

He and Two Knives, therefore, had about the same object in view when they rode out together in advance of their combined force after supper. The sun was setting, but it would be a good while yet before dark.

The miners were all mounted, and nobody would have guessed how much extra weight they were carrying. They were drawn up now in a close rank in front of their little camp, in which they had not left a single guard. Two Knives asked about that.

"What for?" replied Skinner. "What good to leave men? If the Lipans want to rob wagon they kill the men we leave. Suppose Lipans do as they agree, camp safe? No. It will take all the men we've got to fight the Apaches."

That was good-sense, and Two Knives only said "Ugh!" to it; but his next question meant more.

"How about fight? Tell chief what do."

"No, I won't. It's your fight more than mine. If you want us to go ahead, we will go. If you say we are to keep back and let you go ahead, all right. If we say we want to do anything you will think it is crooked. Better not say. You say."

The chief had been expecting to hear some plan of action, and to find something "crooked" in it. Captain Skinner had beaten him at once and completely.

"Then you ride along with Lipans."

"No. The hearts of your young braves are hot and bitter. My men are angry. Must keep apart. Have fight among ourselves. No good."

There was no denying the good-sense of that, and Two Knives had no fear at all but what his pale-face allies would come back after their wagon, extra horses and mules. Of course they would stick to property for which they had shown themselves so ready to fight, and he could not suspect that they now had the best part of it carefully stowed away around them.

"Ugh! Pale-faces can't go ahead. Not stay behind. What then?"

"You say. We go."

"Ride left hand, then. Away off there. Not too far. We go this way. Both find Apaches. Come together then."

"All right. That'll suit us. Send some braves along to see that we don't run away."

Two Knives would have done so if Captain Skinner had not asked for it; but he instantly suspected a cunning plot for the destruction of as many braves as he might send, and he replied,

"Ugh! No good. Pale-faces take care of themselves to-night."

So both of them got what they wanted.

Two Knives believed that by keeping to the right he should make a circuit and surprise the Apache camp, while the miners would be sure to meet any outlying force by riding toward it in a straight line.

Captain Skinner's one idea was to get as far as possible from the Lipans, he hardly cared in what direction. To the "left" was also to the southward, and so he was better off than he had hoped for.

"Go slow, boys," he said to his men. "We must go right across every stream we come to. The more water we can put behind us the better."

The Lipans also advanced with caution at first, keenly watching the distrusted miners until they were hidden from them by the rolls of the prairie and the increasing darkness.

"Cap," said Bill, as they rode along, "why can't we turn now and win back the camp?"

"Yes, we could do it. And win another fight and lose some more men. Perhaps all of us. I'm not in any hurry for that."

The line on which the Captain was leading them slanted away more and more toward the south, but not so much as yet that it need have aroused the suspicions of To-la-go-to-de's keen-eyed spies who were keeping track of them.

They reached a good-sized brook, and the moment they were over it the Captain shouted,

"That gets bigger, or it runs into something before it's gone far. That's our chance, boys."

Nothing could be surer, for all the brooks in the world do that very thing.

Besides, that brook was running in the direction in which the miners wanted to go, and they now pushed forward more rapidly.

"If I knew where the Apache village was," said the Captain, "I'd go near enough to see if we could pick up some ponies. But we won't waste any time looking for it."

The men had plenty of comments to make, but not one of them was willing to set up his own judgment against that of the ragged little Captain. They would never have seen that village if it had not been for the river itself.

The brook was a true guide. In due time it led the miners to the place where it poured its little contribution into the larger stream, and that looked wider and gloomier by night than by day.

"No ford right here, boys. The water runs too still and quiet. We must follow it down."

"Why not follow it up, Captain?"

"Swamps. Can't you see?"

"Wall, no, I can't."

"I can, then. It's half a sort of lake. The river comes out of it. Lower down it'll run faster, and we'll find some shallow place."

"May run against Apaches."

"Got to take our chances."

There was no help for it, but every pair of eyes among them was as busy as the dim light would let it be, while they rode along the bank.

If they could but find a ford!

They thought they found one once, and a tall horseman wheeled his horse down the bank and into............