cried, it is close
to the clump of black-jacks. Fortunately for Alec Hawkins and Oris
Tucker, the Indian horsemen have no intention to halt there, or rest
themselves under the shadow of the copse. To all appearance they are
riding in hot haste, and with a purpose which carries them straight
towards the pass. They do not even stop on arrival at its--summit; but
dash down the ravine, disappearing suddenly as though they had dropped
into a trap!

It is some time before the two hunters have recovered from their
surprise, and can compare notes about what they have seen, with
conjectures as to its bearing. They have witnessed a spectacle
sufficiently alarming,--a band of fierce-looking savages, armed with
spear and tomahawk--some carrying guns--all plumed and painted, all
alike terrible in aspect.

Quick the apparition has passed before their eyes, as suddenly
disappearing. The haste in which the Indians rode down the ravine tells
of their being bent on some fore-arranged purpose that calls for early
execution. It may be murder, or only plunder; and the men may be
Comanches--as in every likelihood they are.

"They're a ugly-looking lot," says Hawkins, after seeing them file past.
"If there were a hundred, instead o' twenty, I'd predict some danger to
our new settlement. They appear to be going that way--at all events
they are bound for the river bottom, and the lower crossing. We must
follow them, Oris, an' see if we can make out what's their game. The
red devils mayn't mean downright robbery, but like enough they intend
stealin'. Hitch up, and let's after em'."

In a trice the two hunters are in their saddles; and proceeding to the
summit of the pass, look down at the valley below. Not carelessly, but
cautiously. Hawkins is an old campaigner, has fought Indians before,
and knows how to deal with them.

Keeping himself and horse under cover of the cedars, after instructing
his comrade to do the same, he reconnoitres the bottom-land, before
attempting to descend to it.

As expected, he sees the Indians making for the ford. At the point
between the San Saba, and either of its bluffs is a breadth of some four
miles, part open meadow land, the other part, contiguous to the river
overgrown with heavy timber. Into this the red horsemen are riding, as
the two hunters reach the summit of the pass, the latter arriving just
in time to see their last files disappear among the trees. It is their
cue to descend also