muleteer had been shot through the
heart with an arrow. Another arrow had scraped Shubert's ankle. Another,
directed by the whimsical genius of accident, had gone clean through the
drooping cartilage of Phineas Glover's long nose, as if to prepare him for
the sporting of jewelled decorations. Two mules were dead, and several
wounded. The sides of the wagons bristled with shafts, and their canvas
tops were pierced with fine holes. But, on the other hand, the Apaches had
lost a dozen horses, three or four warriors killed, and seven or eight
wounded.

Such was the condition of affairs around the train when Coronado, Texas
Smith, and the four surviving herdsmen came storming back to it.

CHAPTER XII.

The Apaches were discouraged by the immovability of the train, and by the
steady and deadly resistance of its defenders. From first to last some
twenty-five or twenty-seven of their warriors had been hit, of whom
probably one third were killed or mortally wounded.

At the approach of Coronado those who were around the wagons swept away in
a panic, and never paused in their flight until they were a good half mile
distant. They carried off, however, every man, whether dead or injured,
except one alone. A few rods from the train lay a mere boy, certainly not
over fifteen years old, his forehead gashed by a bullet, and life
apparently extinct. There was nothing strange in the fact of so young a
lad taking part in battle, for the military age among the Indians is from
twelve to thirty-six, and one third of their fighters are children.

"What did they leave that fellow for?" said Coronado in surprise, riding
up to the senseless figure.

"I'll fix him," volunteered Texas Smith, dismounting and drawing his
hunting knife. "Reckon he hain't been squarely finished."

"Stop!" ordered Coronado. "He is not an Apache. He is some pueblo Indian.
See how much he is hurt."

"Skull ain't broke," replied Texas, fingering the wound as roughly as if
it had been in the flesh of a beast. "Reckon he'll flop round. May do
mischief, if we don't fix him."

Anxious to stick his knife into the defenceless young throat, he
nevertheless controlled his sentiments and looked up for instructions.
Since the splendid decapitation which Coronado had performed, Texas
respected him as he had never heretofore hoped to respect a "greaser."

"Perhaps we can get information out of him," said Coronado. "Suppose you
lay him in a wagon."

Meanwhile prep