any signs
of Indians, for we were now in the land of the Apaches and they are the
most remorseless and cruel of all the Indian tribes. Keen-sighted as the
eagle, crafty as the coyote, and bloodthirsty as the tiger.

"Here will be a good place to camp," suggested Tom.

It was the mouth of a small canyon with a growth of pines and
cottonwoods intermingled, and a clear stream tinkling down over the
rocks.

"No," said the captain, shaking his grey head. "It looks pretty and
would be very comfortable, but it isn't safe to make an open camp like
that in this county. We will look higher up."

So we rode up the canyon for several miles until we found a more lonely
and sheltered place.

"This appears all right, captain," said Jim. "At least for to-night."

"Yes, it will do nicely," he replied, "and there won't be much chance
for a surprise."

So we spurred our horses up the rocky side of the canyon over granite
boulders until we came to a comparatively level place, where was a
growth of pines.

Back of us was the sheer wall of the canyon and below us for two hundred
feet or more the steep slope covered with granite boulders, large and
small.

It did not take us long to make camp, for we were experienced
mountaineers by this time.

We soon had the stuff off from our two Indian pack horses and the fire
was started for supper.

"Time to turn in," called the captain soon after the evening meal was
finished, and in a short time we were sound asleep in our blankets under
the pines. We felt perfectly safe in our cozy canyon. The captain's big
wolf hound was the only one of the party left on guard.

He lay a little in front of us, his nose to the ground, near the edge of
the rise, looking down the canyon. I was suddenly awakened by the hound.
He was standing erect, growling fiercely through his white fangs, and
looking below in the canyon. The captain had gotten up while Jim and Tom
were still sleeping soundly.

"Do you think it is the Apaches?" I said, in a whisper.

"Hardly," replied the captain. "Santa Anna wouldn't act that way if it
was a case of Indians. He would lie low. It may be a coyote."

We stood by Santa, who was quivering all over, his every hair bristling.
We could see nothing distinctly as we peered down into the darkness.

"After 'em," ordered the captain, "shake 'em up, Santa!"

At the word the hound sprang down the rocky slope as if he had just been
unleashed. The captain and I followed as quickl