trying problem to them--the only solution being
that they had grown impatient with the boy and put him to death; and
yet, as the trail had been followed and narrowly watched, it seemed
impossible that such a thing should have taken place without the
pursuers finding it out before this. Dick Morris suggested that the
captive, by some providential interference, had managed to give them the
slip, but Tom could not believe it among the possibilities. If such were
the case, there were no means of learning when or where it had been
done, and the scouts were as completely cut off from pursuit of the boy
as were the Apaches themselves.

In this dilemma there was little to do except to make a general hunt for
him, keeping all the time within striking distance of the Apaches, as
they did not think that the fugitive could have gotten very far from
them. The hunters carefully secreted their animals, and tramped over the
mountains and through ravines, gorges, and woods, until, on this
eventful forenoon they discovered Lone Wolf ahead of them, acting as
though he had detected something particularly gratifying. The shrewd
scouts suspected the truth on the instant. The Apache was also searching
for the lad, and, guided by a greater knowledge, had discovered him. And
so he crouched down in the rocks, not knowing that two other figures
shortly after crouched behind him. Then, after the story had been told,
as the three moved off together, Dick Morris having picked up the rifle
which Lone Wolf cast from him as the contest was about to open, Ned
Chadmund gave him his version of that terrible attack and slaughter in
Devil's Pass, and of what had followed since. When he came to explain
the clever manner in which he dodged the Apaches, his listeners were
delighted. Dick slapped him upon the back, and Tom insisted upon shaking
hands again. It was a favorite way the old fellow had of expressing his
overwhelming delight at anything he saw or heard.

"If you'll put yourself under our trainin'," he added, "we'll make a
hunter of ye in the course of a dozen or fifteen years, more or less."

But Ned had no interest in hunting matters just then. He wanted to get
out of that dangerous neighborhood, and to reach Fort Havens with as
little delay as possible.

"How far is it?" he asked, as the trio moved along the trail.

"We can make it in two or three days, I think," said Tom. "Some parts of
the way, though, is rather rough, and it may take us lon