the
warning words:

"If you stop, or turn about, or make a move to shoot, I will kill you."

It is probable that the savage contemplated some movement of the kind,
but he must have known the fatal risk involved. Quick as he was, he
could not whirl about and bring his gun to a level before the young man
would pull the trigger of the Winchester, which was held pointed toward
him. He knew that so long as he obeyed orders he would be unharmed, and
he would have been a zany had he hesitated to do so.

He did not hesitate, but with a deliberate step that was not lacking in
a certain dignity he walked slowly between the trees, with his captor
only a few paces behind and keeping pace with him.

Almost on the edge of the grove Jack Dudley made an interesting
discovery. A pony, smaller than the one he had ridden from Fort Steele,
stood motionless in the shadow, awaiting the return of his master. He
was not tethered or tied, for he was too well-trained to make that
necessary. He showed his fine training further by merely pricking his
ears and elevating his head upon the approach of his master and
companion. A whinny or neigh might have betrayed both.

The two were now so far removed from the glow of the camp-fire that they
could see each other only dimly. There was no moon in the sky, though
the stars were shining brightly. The Indian, from the force of
circumstances, was compelled to hold his disadvantageous position,
inasmuch as he had to move out from among the trees, while Jack remained
within their shadows.

Realizing that this was a critical moment, he stood motionless, with his
weapon still at a dead level.

"My gun is aimed at your heart," he said, "and I am watching every
movement you make. Go in peace, and you shall not be harmed, but on your
first attempt to injure me you die."

The words, perhaps, were unnecessary, for it may be said that the action
of the youth was more eloquent. Be that as it may, the redskin showed a
commendable promptness in all that he did. He vaulted lightly upon the
bare back of his pony, whose bridle consisted of but a single thong, and
turned the head of the brute outward. He did not speak, for it was not
required. The pony knew what was wanted; and, with his nose pointed out
on the prairie, he emerged from among the trees into the open, with the
warrior astride.

Even in that trying moment Jack Dudley was surprised at one fact--that
was the wonderful silence of the animal. It would