hen we heard the soldiers' guns, and run towards them; and, the
next I knew, I met Ned, and was hugging and kissing him just like a girl,
I was so glad to see him. I tell you 'twas jolly, though; and, when I
found that Juanita was all right, I felt like dancing and crying in the
same minute.

"One thing is certain: you saved Anastacio from killing Juanita, for she
never would have gone into that village alive."

"Wall, youngster," said Jerry, "I've heered you through; and now I'd
like ter know what you think of the 'Paches; 'cause, you see, we've got
ter travel a good many hundred miles through their country, and I'd like
ter hev your opinion of 'em."

"Why, I think they are a cruel, cowardly, treacherous tribe, as Mr.
Mastin said; and the dirtiest things I ever saw."

"Tell me, Jerry, do you know much about them?" interrupted I. "If you do,
tell us something of their character and habits, as you've seen them."

"Wall, I've been through their country seven times, and I've met a heap
of 'em, one way and another; but I hain't got no better opinion of 'em
than Mr. Mastin hed. They're the smartest, wickedest and cunningest,
Injins I ever seed. A Comanche ain't a touch to 'em, and I've never yet
seed a white man smart enuff to beat 'em."

"You don't exactly mean that, do you, Jerry?" inquired I.

"That's exactly what I do mean: no more and no less," was the reply.
"You'll hev a chance ter see for yourself, afore we git through this
trip, I'm thinkin, or you'll be the only man thet ever travelled through
their country that hain't; that's my idee, sartin. Why, the cusses'll
telegraph to one another all over the country, and know just what's goin'
on a hundred miles away.

"Americans can't understand 'em, and never will. No one ever saw a white
man look at a country as a 'Pache does: he'll see everything. Ther ain't
a ravine, gully, rock, bush, or tree, a foot high, thet he don't hev his
eye on. Now, a white man don't look at a country in that way, does he?

[Illustration: Apache Trailing.]

"Jest ez likely ez not, there's a Injin within a dozen yards of us; but
we wouldn't think it."

"A dozen yards of us!" exclaimed Hal, looking around; "why, where could
he hide, I'd like to know?"

"That's jest it, youngster. We might go within ten feet of him, and never
see him. Why, I've knowed 'em to hide behind a brown-bush, clump er
cactus, or a rock, so mighty cunnin' thet ther ain't one scout in fifty
would see 'em, let