atively
short distance down the river the banks were so depressed that he could
readily make his way from the boat to the land, so that after getting
fairly below the Apaches his chances of ultimate escape were greatly
increased.

The Indians must have been exasperated at the refusal, for Tom had taken
scarcely a dozen strokes when he saw the flash of several guns upon the
bank, and the whizzing of the bullets around his head left no doubt of
the target at which they aimed.

"I can do somethin' of that myself," growled the hunter, as he laid down
his paddle and took up his gun.

Without the least hesitation, he fired directly into the group, and the
wild cry that instantly followed told with what a fatal result also. All
diplomacy was ended by this act, and without pausing to reload his
piece, he dropped his gun and bent to the task. The long ashen paddle
was dipped deep into the water, and the light vessel shot like an arrow
down stream. It seemed, indeed, to be imbued with life, and fairly
skimmed over the surface. The unexpected and defiant response to the
summons of the Apaches threw them into temporary bewilderment, and the
minutes thus lost to them were golden ones gained to the fugitive, who
shot the canoe as close to the opposite shore as was prudent, and
wielded the paddle with the skill of a veteran.

Having now no need of the dummy that had stood him so well for the time,
Tom did not hesitate to throw him overboard as a useless incumbrance,
and, thus relieved of the dead weight, he sped forward with wonderful
speed. In a short time after that the redskins had vanished from view,
and almost any one would have supposed that the danger was passed; but
Tom was well aware that it was only a temporary lull in the storm. The
Apaches were like bloodhounds, who, having once taken the trail of their
prey, would relax no effort so long as there was a chance of capturing
him, and so he abated not a jot of his tremendous exertions.

CHAPTER III.

PURSUED BY THE APACHES.

As stealthily as a phantom did the canoe bearing the scout skim along
the shore of the Gila, hugging the banks as closely as possible, so as
to take advantage of the ribbon of shadow which followed the winding of
the stream. The moon was creeping higher up the sky, and this advantage
would soon be denied the fugitive altogether, so every minute was
improved to the utmost. Now and then Tom ceased paddling, and as the
boat shot forward with