twenty feet in height. The current was sluggish and not a breath of air
wrinkled the surface on this mild summer night.

It was in the wildest part of the Indian country, and Tom Hardynge, the
hunter, runner and bearer of all dispatches between the frontier posts
in the extreme southwest, knew very well that for three days past it had
been his proverbial good fortune, or rather a special Providence, that
had kept his scalp from ornamenting the lodge of some marauding Comanche
or Apache. Tom was one of the bravest and most skillful of borderers in
those days, and had been up in the Indian country to learn the truth of
numerous rumors which had come to the stations, reports of a general
uprising among the redskins, with whom the peace commissioners had
succeeded in negotiating treaties after months of diplomacy. After
spending more than a week in dodging back and forth, in the disguise of
an Indian he had learned enough to feel that there was good foundation
for these rumors, and that the exposed stations and settlements were in
imminent peril. As soon as he was assured of this fact he started on his
return to Fort Havens, which still lay a good three days' travel to the
southwest. It was Tom's purpose to continue his descent until the
following night, when, if nothing unexpected should intervene, he hoped
to reach the point where he had left his mustang, and thence it would be
plain sailing for the rest of the way. He knew the country thoroughly,
and was confident that it was safer to perform a part of the journey by
water than by land, which explains how it was that he was still in the
paint and garb of an Indian, and still stealing his way down toward the
Gulf of California.

"Them Apaches are a cute set," he muttered, as he glided along through
the bank of shadow; "I believe they've larned I've been up among them
lookin' around. I can't tell 'zactly how they larned it. I've played
Injun so often that I know I can do it purty well; but they know there's
somethin' in the air, and them signs I spied yesterday showed plain
'nough that they was lookin' for me. They'd give a dozen of their best
warriors, with a chief throwed in to make good weight, to keep me from
reachin' Fort Havens with the news that the Apaches are makin' ready to
raise Old Ned along the border. Fact is, I do carry big news, that's
sartin. Hello!"

This exclamation was caused by the appearance of a bright point of light
on the edge of the bluff, sev