The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico | Page 7

here. But we'll have a look, anyway."
They soon gained the top of the rock, which stood some twenty feet higher than the crest of the mountain on which it rested.
"Isn't this great?" exclaimed Tad.
"Might think we were in the Rockies."
"Or the Ozarks."
"I hope we don't have as much trouble here as we did in that range. Our guide is not much better than the Shawnee we had for a time on that trip. I can't see the foothills, but the plain on beyond is pretty clear."
"Hope we don't have to chase all over the desert for water. I--"
Tad grasped his companion by the sleeve and jerked him violently to the rock.
"What's up? What's the matter with you?" protested Stacy.
"Keep still, some one's coming."
The lad's keen ears had caught a sound which Stacy had entirely failed to hear. It was the sound of horses making their way through the bushes. There were several in the party, Tad could tell by the sounds, and having in mind the man Lasar, he thought he might perhaps learn something of advantage by remaining quietly on the top of the rock.
All this he explained in a few brief words to his companion. Then both boys crouched low, peering over the cliff, having first removed their sombreros.
What they saw, a few moments later, surprised them very much indeed.
The horsemen in single file suddenly appeared out of a draw to the east and headed for the rock where the lads were in hiding.
"Look! Look!" exclaimed Tad in a low, suppressed voice.
"I-n-d-i-a-n-s!" breathed Chunky.
They seemed to rise right up out of the ground, as one by one they emerged from the draw to the more level rocks that lay about the hiding place of the Pony Rider Boys.
"I wonder who they are?" questioned Tad.
"They look savage. I wonder if they'd hurt us, Tad?"
"I don't know. I do know, though, that I wouldn't trust those ugly faces one second. I thought the Blackfeet were savage, but they're not to be compared with these redskins."
A full dozen of them had, by this time, come into view. They sat huddled on their ponies, their painted faces just appearing above the gayly colored blankets in which they were enveloped.
"They must be cold," muttered Chunky. "Shouldn't think they'd need bed clothes around them this time of the year."
"Not so loud, Chunky," warned Tad.
"Know what they are, Tad?"
"I wouldn't say positively, but somehow they look to me like Apaches."
Tad's surmise was correct. The twelve warriors were members of the savage band that had in past years caused the Government so much trouble and bloodshed.
"They're off their reservation, if they are Apaches," whispered the lad.
"What does that indicate, Tad?"
"I don't know. They may be on the warpath; then, again, they may be down here after game. I'm not sure even, if there is any game here. We'll lie still until they get by us. That's the best plan; don't you think so?"
"Yes."
"Lie perfectly still, Chunky. The little bushes in front of us will screen us, providing we don't move about. Indians have quick eyes, though they do look as if they were half asleep."
"They're getting off their horses, Tad. What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
Tad peered through the bushes, noting every move that the redskins made. At first he thought they had discovered him and were about to surround the rock and take him prisoner. But he soon saw that such was not their intention. Tethering their ponies, the Indians cast their blankets on the ground, after having first picked out a suitable place.
"They're making camp," whispered Tad.
One after another of the savages took out his pipe, and soon the odor from burning tobacco was wafted to the nostrils of the hidden Pony Rider Boys.
"Guess they're going to get some dinner," decided Stacy, observing that the strangers were gathering brush.
This was the case. The ponies had been staked where they could browse on the green leaves, and now their masters were about to satisfy their own appetites.
Tad groaned.
"What is it?" questioned Stacy apprehensively.
"They will be here half of the day at least. I know a little about Indians, having been captured by them once. The difference is that my Indians were in a hurry to get somewhere. These fellows seem to have all the time in the world. They're waiting-- killing time for some reason. You'll see, after they finish their dinner, that they will smoke some more, then lie down for a catnap."
"And-- and what'll we be doing?"
"We'll be hiding on the top of this rock, Chunky."
"Wish I had my rifle."
"Lucky for both of us that you haven't."
The lads had been talking in whispers, but the words fairly froze in their mouths, when, upon glancing down they saw the eyes of a savage fixed upon them.
"On your life, don't move a muscle, Chunky," whispered