In the Pecos Country | Page 9

latter could not have had a better opportunity to pick him off
without danger to himself. Had he meditated any such purpose, when he wheeled to fire

the shot there would have been no target visible.
The strained ear of the lad could not detect the slightest rustling that might betray the
where-abouts of the dreaded chief, and Fred knew better than to expect any such
advantage as that which just permitted to pass through his hands. But what would Lone
Wolf do? This was the all-important question. Would he sneak off through the wood and
out of the valley, and would he be seen and heard no more that night? or would he return
to revenge himself for the injury to his pride? Was he alone in the grove, or were there a
half dozen brother-demons sulking among the undergrowth, like so many rattlesnakes,
except that they did not give any warning before striking their blow? Had any of them
visited Mickey or Thompson, and was a general attack about to be made upon the
settlement? Such questions as these surged through the mind of Fred, as he stood leaning
against the tree, rifle in hand, listening, looking, and thinking.
Suddenly he gave utterance to a low whistle, which he was accustomed to use as a signal
in communicating with Mickey. It was almost instantly answered, in a way which
indicated that the Irishman was approaching. A minute later the two were together. The
lad hastily related his stirring adventure with the great Apache war-chief, and, as may be
imagined, Mickey was dumfounded.
"It's meself that has n't seen or heard the least sign of one of the spalpeens since the set of
sun, and they've been about us all the time."
"How was it they got here without being seen?"
"There be plenty ways of doing the same. They've found out that we were watching this
pint, and so they slipped round and came the other way."
"Do you think they will attack us to-night?"
"I'm thinkin' they're only making observations, as me uncle obsarved, when he was
cotched in the house of Larry O'Mulligan, and they'll be down on us some time, when
everything is ready."
"It seems to me it is a poor time to make observations--in the night."
"The red-skin is like an owl," replied Mickey. "He can see much better at night than he
can by day; but there's Thompson; let us see whether some of the spalpeens haven't made
a call upon him in the darkness. Be aisy now, in stepping over the leaves, for an Injin
hears with his fingers and toes as well as his ears."
The Hibernian led the way, each advancing with all the caution at his command, and
using such stealth and deliberation in their movements that some ten or fifteen minutes
were consumed in passing over the intervening space. At last, however, the spot was
reached where they had bidden good-bye to their friend, earlier in the evening.
"Here's about the place," said Mickey, looking about him; "but I does n't observe the
gintleman, by the token of which he must have strayed away. Hilloa!"

He repeated the call in a low, cautious voice, but still loud enough to be heard a dozen
yards or more from where he stood; but no response came, and, although neither of the
two gave any expression to it, yet they were sensible of a growing fear that this absence
or silence of their friend had a most serious meaning.
"Yonder he is now," suddenly exclaimed Fred. "He's a great sentinel, too, for he's sound
asleep."
The stalwart figure of Thompson was seen seated upon the ground, with his back against
a tree, and his chin on his breast, like one sunk in a deep slumber. The sentinel had seated
himself on the edge of the grove, where all the trees and undergrowth were behind, and
the open space in front of him. At the time of doing so, no doubt his figure was enveloped
in the shadow, but since then the moon had climbed so high in the sky that its rays fell
upon his entire person, and the instant the two chanced to glance in that direction, they
saw him with startling distinctness.
"Begorrah! if that does n't bate the mischief!" exclaimed Mickey, impatiently, as he
looked at his unconscious friend. "I thought he was the gintleman that had traveled, and
knew all about these copper-colored spalpeens. S'pose we' all done the same, Lone Wolf
and his Apaches would have had all our skulp-locks hanging at their goordles by this
time. I say, Thompson, ain't you ashamed of yourself to be wastin' your time in this
fashion?"
As he spoke, he stooped down, and seizing the arm of the man, shook