It takes a good deal to startle an American Indian, but if there ever was a frightened red man it was the one who heard himself thus addressed, and, glancing like a flash to his right, saw Jack Dudley step forward, with a Winchester rifle leveled at him.  
In the language of the West, the youth "had the drop" on the intruder, and he knew it. Had he attempted to raise his own weapon, or to draw his knife and assail the youth, that instant the trigger of the rifle would have been pressed and the career of the buck would have ended then and there, and he knew that, too; but the fact that the gun was not fired, and that a direct question was addressed to him, told the Indian that his master was less merciless than he would have been had their situations been reversed.
 
The camp-fire was still burning brightly, and the reflection showed on the painted visage. Jack, having stepped forward into the circle of light, was also plainly discerned by the Indian, who, turning his black, serpent-like eyes upon him, said, without a tremor in his voice:
 
"Me good Injin; me friend of white man; me no hurt him."
 
"It doesn't look as if you would; but what is your business? Why do you steal into our camp like a thief of the night?"
 
"Me hungry—want somethin' eat."
 
This was too transparent a subterfuge to deceive one even so unaccustomed to life in these solitudes as Jack Dudley. An Indian wandering through a country so well stocked with game as this portion of the new State of Wyoming never suffers for food; and, were such a thing possible, the present means was the last that he would adopt to procure it.
 
"If you want something to eat, why did you not come forward openly and ask for it?"
 
The fellow did not seem fully to grasp the question, but he repeated:
 
"Me hungry."
 
Jack recalled that there was not a mouthful of food in camp. Had there been, he probably would have invited the visitor to walk to the fire and partake. It was fortunate for the youth that their larder was empty, for had the two started among the trees in the direction of the camp, the opportunity for which the Indian was doubtless waiting would have been secured. There would have been an interval in the brief walk when the advantage would have been shifted to him, and he would have seized it with the quickness of lightning.
 
The manifest duty of Jack was to shout to Hank Hazletine and bring him to the spot. He would read the truth on the instant and do the right thing; but the situation, as the reader will admit, was peculiar, and the motive which prevented the youth from adopting this line of action was creditable to him. He believed that the moment the guide appeared he would shoot the intruder, and that was too frightful an issue for Jack to contemplate. He did not want this warrior's life, and would not take it except to save his own or that of his friends.
 
Jack believed that enough had been gained in thoroughly frightening the Indian, and the thing desired now was to get rid of him with the least possible delay. He did not think he would intrude again, even if he had companions within call.
 
"We have no food; we can give you nothing; you must go elsewhere."
 
"Then me go;" and, as if the business was concluded, the buck turned about and began walking toward the edge of the grove. Yielding to a whim which he did not fully understand, Jack Dudley followed him with the warning words:
 
"If you stop, or turn about, or make a move to shoot, I will kill you."
 
It is probable that the savage contemplated some movement of the kind, but he must have known the fatal risk involved. Quick as he was, he could not whirl about and bring his gun to a level before the young man would pull the trigger of the Winchester, which was held pointed toward him. He knew that so long as he obeyed orders he would be unharmed, and he would have been a zany had he hesitated to do so.
 
He did not hesitate, but with a deliberate step that was not lacking in a certain dignity he walked slowly between the trees, with his captor only a few paces behind and keeping pace with him.
 
Almost on the edge of the grove Jack Dudley made an interesting discovery. A pony, smaller than the one he had ridden from Fort Steele, stood motionless in the shadow, awaiting the return of his master. He was not tethered or tied, for he was too well-trained to make that necessary. He showed his fine training further by merely pricking his ears and elevating his head upon the approach of his master and companion. A whinny or neigh might have betrayed both.
 
The two were now so far removed from the glow of the camp-fire that they could see each other only dimly. There was no moon in the sky, though the stars were shining brightly. The Indian, from the force of circumstances, was compelled to hold his disadvantageous position, inasmuch as he had to move out from among the trees, while Jack remained within their shadows.
 
Realizing that this was a critical moment, he stood motionless, with his weapon still at a dead level.
 
"My gun is aimed at your heart," he said, "and I am watching every movement you make. Go in peace, and you shall not be harmed, but on your first attempt to injure me you die."
 
The words, perhaps, were unnecessary, for it may be said that the action of the youth was more eloquent. Be that as it may, the redskin showed a commendable promptness in all that he did. He vaulted lightly upon the bare back of his pony, whose bridle consisted of but a single thong, and turned the head of the brute outward. He did not speak, for it was not required. The pony knew what was wanted; and, with his nose pointed out on the prairie, he emerged from among the trees into the open, with the warrior astride.
 
Even in that trying moment Jack Dudley was surprised at one fact—that was the wonderful silence of the animal. It would seem that his hoofs should have given out sounds that could have been heard for a considerable distance in the stillness of the night, but it was as if he were treading on velvet. The noise was so faint that it was easy to understand how he had come to the spot without betraying himself to the intently listening sentinel. No wonder that the Indian ponies sometimes display a sagacity fully equal, in some respects, to that of their masters.
 
The Indian showed in another direction his perception of the situation. Had he been leaving the presence of one of his own race, or of a veteran white scout, he would have thrown himself forward on the back of his animal and ridden off on a dead run, for, despite the unexpected mercy shown him, he would have expected treachery at the last minute; but he had seen his master and knew that he was a young tenderfoot, inspired by a chivalrous honor which is the exception in that section of the country. He would not shoot until good cause was given, and therefore he took care not to give such cause.
 
As if in harmony with the spirit of his rider, the pony walked away in a direct line, until the figure of himself and master disappeared in the gloom. When he could see him no more, Jack lowered his gun, and stooping down, pressed his ear against the earth. He could hear the soft hoof-beats of the horse growing fainter and fainter, until at the end of a minute or two the impressive silence once more held reign. Then the youth arose to his feet.
 
"I suppose Hank will tell me I did wrong," he mused, "but my conscience does not; it would be a woeful memory to carry with me that on my first night in Wyoming I took the life of a human being. Perhaps it will be as well that Hank should not know it; I will think it over."
 
Now, while Jack Dudley had conducted himself in some respects like a veteran, yet he had shown a dangerous short-sightedness in another direction. It will be noted that he had busied himself wholly with the single intruder, and at the moment of losing sight of him the young man was a comparatively long distance from the camp-fire. Had it been that there were two or more hostiles stealing into camp, they could not have asked a better opportunity, for it was left wholly unguarded. A single warrior would have had no trouble in creeping undiscovered to a point from which he could have sent a bullet through the unconscious forms of Hank Hazletine and Fred Greenwood. This probability never occurred to Jack until he started on his return to the fire, from whose immediate vicinity he should never have allowed himself to have been tempted.
 
Even then his strange remissness would not have impressed itself upon him but for a startling discovery. The fire was beginning to smoulder once more, but enough of its glare penetrated the wood for him to note the black, column-like trunks of the trees between it and him. With his gaze upon the central point, he saw a figure moving in the path of light and coming toward him. It looked as if stamped in ink against the yellow background, and, like the former intruder, was advancing without noise.
 
An awful fear thrilled Jack Dudley as he abruptly halted and partly raised his Winchester.
 
"While I have been busy with one Indian, another has entered the camp and slain Fred and Hank! He is now after me! There will be no hesitation this time in my shooting!"
 
Before he could secure anything like an aim, the other stepped behind one of the trunks on his right. Jack waited for him to reappear, ready to fire, but unwilling to do so until the truth was established.
 
While waiting thus, a low, faint, tremulous whistle reached his ears. It was the most welcome of all sounds, and raised him from the depths of woe to blissful happiness, for it was the familiar signal of Fred Greenwood that had been employed many times in their hunting excursions nearer home.
 
Instead of an enemy, it was his chum and dearest friend who was approaching him. Jack instantly answered the guarded hail, and the next minute the two came together.
 
"How is it you are awake?" was the first question of Jack.
 
"Because it is time for me to awake; it was agreed that I should go on duty at a little after twelve, and it must be near one o'clock."
 
"But what awoke you?"
 
"Nonsense! Haven't you and I travelled together long enough to know that when you go to sleep with your mind fixed on a certain time to awake you are sure not to miss it by more than a few minutes?"
 
"You are right; I had forgotten that. How was it you knew where to look for me?"
 
"I didn't. I've been prowling around camp for fifteen minutes, groping here and there and signaling to you, without the first inkling of where you were. I didn't want to awake Hank, and therefore was as careful as I could be. I began to suspect you had sat down somewhere and fallen asleep."
 
"I have had enough to keep the most drowsy person awake."
 
And thereupon Jack gave the particulars of all that had occurred while he was acting as sentinel. It need not be said that Fred Greenwood was astonished, for the manner of their guide before lying down convinced them that no danger of any nature threatened them.
 
"Do you think I acted right, Fred?"
 
"Most certainly you did. Hank and the like of him out in this country talk about shooting down an Indian as if he were not a human being, but they have souls like the rest of us, and we have no more right to take the life of one of them than I have to take yours. I am sure I should have done just as you did."
 
"I am glad to hear you say that. I wonder whether, if we stayed out here a few years, our feelings would change?"
 
"No; for the principle of right and wrong cannot change. Do you remember what that old settler told us on the train, a couple of days ago?"
 
"I do not recall it."
 
"He said that at a little town in Montana they had a great moral question under debate for a long time without being able to decide it. It was whether it was wicked for the men to go out hunting for Indians on Sunday. It was all right on week days, but most of the folks seemed to think it was a violation of the sanctity of the day to indulge in the sport on the Sabbath. But, Jack, you are tired and in need of sleep. I'll take charge of matters until two o'clock."
 
"I wonder whether anything will happen to you? It does not seem likely, for I must have given that fellow such a scare that he will not show himself again."
 
"But you mustn't reason on the basis that he is the only red man in Wyoming. However, I shall do my best. Good-night."
 
Thus summarily dismissed, Jack returned to the camp-fire in quest of the slumber which he needed. Fred had thrown additional wood on the blaze, and that accounted for the increase in illumination. Hank Hazletine did not seem to have stirred since lying down. He breathed heavily, and doubtless was gaining the rest which men of his habits and training know how to acquire under the most unfavorable circumstances. The youth wrapped his blanket about his figure, for he was now sensible that the air was colder than at any time since leaving the railway station. He was nervous over the recollection of his experience, though it would have been deemed of slight importance to one who had spent his life in the West. The feeling soon passed off, however, and he joined the veteran in the land of dreams.
 
And thus the burden of responsibility was shifted to the shoulders of Fred Greenwood, the junior by a few months of Jack Dudley. No one could have been more deeply impressed with his responsibility than Fred. He knew that a hostile red man had entered the grove while two of the party were asleep, and, but for the watchfulness of the sentinel, might have slain all three.
 
"I don't know much about Indians," reflected Fred, "but I have been told that they are a revengeful people. That fellow must be angered because he was outwitted by Jack, and it will be just like him to steal back for the purpose of revenge. It won't do for me to wink both eyes at the same time."
 
This was a wise resolution, and the youth took every precaution against committing what was likely to be a fatal mistake. Although his sleep was broken, and he could have consumed several hours additional with enjoyment, he was never more wide-awake. The temptation was strong to sit down on the ground with his back against a tree, but he foresaw the consequences. The man who yields only for a few minutes to the creeping drowsiness is gone.
 
Fred was more circumspect, even, than his chum. Instead of taking his position beside the trunk of one of the trees, he walked silently around in a circle, keeping the camp-fire as a centre. By this means he not only kept his senses keyed to a high point, but made his espionage nearer perfect than his friend had done.
 
That the night was not to pass without a stirring experience to the younger lad was soon evident. As nearly as he could guess, without consulting his watch, it was about one o'clock, when he became aware that some person or animal was astir in the grove. He heard the faint footfalls on the ground, though for a time he was unable to catch so much as a shadowy glimpse of the intruder.
 
"I believe it is that Indian, who has come back to square accounts with Jack for getting the better of him. The wisest thing for me to do is to not allow him to see me."
 
This was wise; and, to prevent such a disaster, Fred adopted the precise tactics that had been used by his friend. He stationed himself beside a friendly trunk, which so interposed between himself and the fire that he was invisible, no matter from what direction approached. Standing thus, he peered into the surrounding gloom and listened with all the intensity of which he was capable.
 
Suddenly he caught a glimpse of the intruder. The relief was unspeakable when he saw that it was not an Indian, but some kind of a wild animal. It was but a short distance off, and between him and the outer edge of the grove.
 
There being no one to replenish the fire, the light had grown dimmer, but a quick, shadowy flitting told Fred the brute was moving briskly about, only a few paces from where the lad was straining his vision to learn its nature.
 
"We might as well wind up this business," reflected Fred, as, with his hand on the trigger of his Winchester, he started abruptly in the direction of the stranger. The latter was quick to perceive him and whisked away. The lad followed, breaking into a trot despite the intervening trees. The beast continued fleeing, for nothing so disconcerts an animal as the threatening approach of a foe.
 
It was but a few paces to the edge of the timber, when the brute leaped out into full view in the star-gleam.
 
One glance was sufficient for the youth to recognize it as an immense wolf, which had probably been drawn to the spot by the odor of the meat that composed the dinner of the party. Fifty feet off the wolf stopped, turned partly about, and looked back at his pursuer, as if to learn whether he intended to follow him farther.
 
Fred did not, but the opportunity was too good to be lost. The aim was inviting, and, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, he sighted as best he could and pulled the trigger. He could not have done better had the sun been shining. The bullet passed directly through the skull of the wolf, which uttered a sharp yelp, leaped several feet into the air, and, doubling up like a jack-knife, fell upon his side, where, after several convulsive struggles, he lay still.
 
Naturally enough, the boy was elated over his success, for the shot was certainly an excellent one.
 
"There!" he said. "Jack frightened off the Indians, and I think I have given the wild animals a good lesson. At any rate, you won't bother us any more."
 
He supposed that the report of the gun would awaken Hazletine and bring him to the spot to learn the explanation, but nothing of that nature followed. If the report disturbed him, he merely opened and closed his eyes, and continued to slumber, after the manner of one who appreciates the value of rest.
 
In truth, it was always a matter of wonderment to the boys that their veteran guide adopted the course he followed that night. That actual danger impended was proven by the incidents already narrated, and yet he entrusted the safety of one of the boys, as well as his own life, to another, who, until then, had never been in a similar position. Why he did so would be hard to explain, but he never admitted that his course was a mistake. Sometimes, as is well known, a boy is taught to swim by flinging him into deep water, where he must choose between keeping afloat and drowning; and it may be the guide believed that, by tossing his young friends into the midst of danger at the very beginning of their experience as Western hunters, they would acquire the needed skill the more quickly.