of observing that he was
steadily and rapidly drawing away from his pursuers. Every few minutes,
when he looked back, he could see they were dropping further and further
behind. His gain in this respect was clearly perceptible to himself, and
when, at the end of an hour or more, he observed that the Apaches had
ceased the effort to overhaul him, he could scarcely repress his
exultation.

"They made a good selection!" he exclaimed, alluding to the steed which
the hunters had taken from the Indians in the mountains. "They could not
have done better."

Drawing his mustang down to a dead halt, he carefully scanned the
prairie behind him. Only three of his pursuers were visible, and, if his
eyes did not deceive him, they were turning back. A few minutes careful
scrutiny assured him of the fact. He had outwitted the redskins again.

"Now, you may rest yourself, my pet," he said to his horse, fondly
patting the neck of his steed.

"You have done nobly, and I feel like trusting you alone to graze."

As near as he could judge it was close upon noon, and his animal was in
need of rest, although capable of continuing his arrowy flight until the
sun should sink in the west. It was wise to indulge him all he could,
and for the next two hours he was permitted to walk at a moderate gait.
At the end of that time he headed toward a ravine, in which a few
stunted trees were growing, and where he hoped to find grass and water.
He did not forget the lesson he had learned, and before trusting himself
in the inviting shade and coolness, he carefully circled about the place
until assured that no peril lurked there, when he rode forward at the
same leisurely pace.

He was yet a hundred yards distant, when his mustang abruptly paused of
his own accord, pricking up his ears as if he scented danger.

Ned urged him, and he advanced a few steps, and then halted again,
raising high his head and snuffing the air, accompanied at the same time
by a peculiar stamp of the foot.

"There must be something wrong," thought the boy in alarm.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A GREAT MISFORTUNE.

Ned Chadmund was too wise to go contrary to the instincts of the
mustang, which, at such a time knew more than did he of the dangers of
the country. The boy, however, supposed that it was some wild animal,
probably a grizzly bear, which alarmed the steed. He wondered however,
that if such were the fact, why the brute did not give some more
tangible evidence of h