im.
There might have been no human agency in this slight occurrence, as the
loose _debris_ was likely to do the same thing at any moment, but Tom
believed that it was caused by the moccasin of an Apache stealing
upward. He stealthily peeped around the edge of the rock, but nothing
was to be seen. There was a moon in the sky, but its position was such
that the path was thrown in shadow, and he could not have detected a man
a dozen feet distant.

Fifteen minutes more passed and then the scout became certain that an
Indian was stealing up the path toward him. It was a wonder how the
thing could be done, without sending streams of gravel and pebbles
rattling to the bottom. Hardynge straightened up, still peering around
in the gloom.

The moments wore away and still he was able to detect that soft, faint
gliding, as if a rattlesnake were getting into a position to strike its
prey. By and by--yes, he could now make out the crouching figure
approaching through the darkness and he drew back lest he should be
seen. Nearer and nearer it drew, while he remained as motionless as the
solid rock beside him. Finally, after great delay it stood opposite.

At the very instant it was passing the hand of Tom Hardynge shot
straight out with lightning-like quickness and force, and the knife
clutched in his iron-like grasp did its duty well. No outcry proclaimed
the deed. There was only a gasp and all was over. The moment it was done
the hunter straightened up and listened.

"Mebbe there's another behind him."

But the most patient, careful listening failed to detect anything, and,
leaving the body lying where it had fallen, he went noiselessly to the
top where Dick was sleeping. A gentle touch aroused the latter and he
instantly rose to his feet. A few words told him all that had happened
and then the two hurriedly discussed the scheme which had occurred to
Hardynge a short time before. Two minutes only were needed for them to
reach a conclusion.

"I'll do it," muttered Tom, as they arose and began picking their way
down the path.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

A DESPERATE SCHEME.

The two scouts carefully descended until they reached the spot where the
dead Apache lay. They moved as noiselessly as shadows until they stood
directly by the inanimate form. Then, while Tom Hardynge began adjusting
his outer garments, Dick Morris stooped over and drew forth the blanket
which was crumpled beneath the dead warrior.

The Apaches and Comanc