There was nothing especially noticeable in the site which the scout had selected for his camp fire. His principal object had been secrecy and he had obtained it beyond all peradventure. The place was more like a cavern than anything else, except that it was open at the top, but it was walled in on the four sides, so there was barely room for the three to enter. As the scout explained, he was perfectly familiar with that section of the country, and he lost no time in hunting out the spot. He had his horse with him at the time the Apaches drove Mickey and Fred in among the rocks, and he staid until pretty certain they could keep the Apaches at bay until dark, when he made his way to a level spot inclosed by rocks. There he kindled a fire, cooked some antelope and left his mustang to graze and browse near by, while he returned to the assistance of his friends.  
“Where did ye shoot that uncleope, or antelope?” asked Mickey.
 
“I didn’t shoot him at all; he’s the one you fetched down. Yer left enough for me, so I didn’t run the risk of firing my gun when the varmints were so close by, so I sliced out a hunk or two from the carcass, and fetched it along.”
 
“Ye haven’t got any of it about ye?”
 
“Not enough for yer folks—no more than three or four pounds.”
 
“Be the powers but ye’re right. That’s ’nough to stay our stomach, as me sick aunt remarked after swallowing her twenty-third dumpling.”
 
At the moment the party walked in among the rocks the smoldering embers of the camp-fire were plainly seen. They needed but a little stirring to break forth into flame again, so as to light up the interior, which was about a dozen feet square, with a height of a dozen feet, more or less. When the Irishman signified that something in the way of food would be acceptable, the scout produced it from among the leaves near at hand, and it was devoured with the heartiest kind of appetite. They had drank all the water they needed, and the three assumed easy, lounging attitudes, Mickey lighting his pipe and enjoying himself immensely.
 
“This is what I call comfortable,” he remarked, “as me friend Patsey McFadden observed when the row began at the fair and the whacks came from every quarter. I enjoy it; it’s refining, it’s soothing; it makes a man glad that he’s alive.”
 
“What do you think of it?” asked the scout, turning to Fred, who was reclining upon the heavy Apache blanket, with the appearance of one who was upon the verge of sleep.
 
“I feel very grateful to you,” said he, rousing up, “and I am more contented than I have been in a long time; but I’m afraid all the time that Lone Wolf or some of his braves might find where we are.”
 
Sut smiled in a pitying way, as he replied:
 
“Don’t ye s’pose I’m old ’nough to fix all that? Haven’t I larned ’nough of the ’Paches and thar devilments to keep ’em back? Wall, I rather guess I have.”
 
As the night remained so warm that no comfort at all was derived from the fire, it was agreed that it should be left to burn out gradually. It had been kindled originally by Sut for the purpose of cooking his meat, and he had renewed it that his friends might see exactly where they were, and, at the same time, look into each other’s faces.
 
“Let me ax ye,” said Mickey, puffing away at his pipe, “whether, whin we start for home, we’re going to take the pass, which seems as full of the spalpeens as me head is of grand ideas?”
 
“I can’t be sartin of that,” replied Sut, thoughtfully. “We can strike the prairie by going off here in another course; but it will take a long time, and the road is harder to travel. I like the pass a good deal the best, and unless the varmints seem too thick, we’ll take it.”
 
“If we could get a good, fair start in the pass, we could kape ahead of ’em all the way till we struck the open prairie, when it would be illigant to sail away and watch them falling behind, like a snail trying to catch a hare.”
 
The scout pointed to the lad, and, turning his head, Mickey saw that he was sound asleep. The poor fellow was so wearied and worn that he could not resist the approach “tired nature’s sweet restorer,” which carried him off so speedily into the land of dreams.
 
“I’m glad to obsarve it,” said the Irishman, “for the poor chap needs it. He’s too young to be in this sort of business, but he couldn’t prevint the soorcumstances, and we must help him out of the scrape as best we can.”
 
“I’m with yer,” responded the scout. “He’s one of the most likely youngsters I’ve ever met, and I’ll risk a good deal to fetch him along. I’m in hopes that we’re purty well out of the woods, though we may have some trouble afore we get cl’ar of Lone Wolf and the rest.”
 
“As soon as we get the critters to ride, I s’pose we kin be off.”
 
“That’s all, and that won’t take me long. I’m used to finding horses that the varmints are fools ’nough to say are thars. One day last spring, I war over near the staked plain all alone, when I got cotched in one of them awful nor’easters, and I never came so near freezin’ to death in all my life. Them sort of winds go right to the marrer of yer bones, and it takes yer a week to thaw out. Wall, sir, while I war tryin&............