his head showed that there was no part of the horizon that
was not under his surveillance. Tom was equally busy while riding in the
rear. Neither of the hunters addressed a word to the other, but the boy
detected a sort of telegraphy occasionally passing between them. They
were working by a preconcerted arrangement, like corresponding parts of
some machine, understanding each other so well that there was no need
for explanation. The boy also used his to the best advantage possible,
often turning his head and scanning the prairie and horizon, but not a
single time did he discern anything that looked like Indians. Had he
been alone, he would have journeyed serenely forward, certain that no
danger of any kind threatened.

At noon, a brief halt was made as they struck the margin of a small
stream, the water of which was rather warm and muddy, the buffaloes
having probably disturbed it at some point above. The horses quaffed
their fill, and upon the suggestion of Tom, Ned did the same. There was
a good deal of significance when he uttered the words.

"It may be a good while before you get a chance at another."

It did not escape the notice of the lad, either, that both his friends
filled to the full their old canteens, after which they repaired to one
side, where they conversed for some time in low tones, and with such
earnest, excited gestures, that it was plain they were in deadly
earnest.

"I don't see why they keep everything from me," he muttered, as he
observed this. "I think I've seen as big sights as they have for the
last few days, and if there's any trouble coming, I wonder whether I
haven't got to take my chance the same as them? But I'll let them alone
till they get ready to tell me."

He was watching the two as they were talking to each other, when Tom
beckoned to him to approach.

"There's no use of talkin'," said the hunter, in a low voice; "we're
gettin' into the worst scrimmage of our lives. We're right in the middle
of a dangerous tract. We've been seen by the Apaches and they're arter
us."

"Why don't you wait until night and go through when they can't see you?"

The hunter shook his head at this seemingly reasonable query.

"The darkness is worse for us than it is for them. They can lay flat on
the perarie and hear the sound of the hosses' feet a good deal further
off than they can see 'em, and the scamps are so cunnin' they would have
drawn us right into some ambush afore we'd knowed anythin' a