after those two rifles had spoken.

All irresolution passed out of Sile's mind as he rode forward, for he
felt that he had behaved rightly, and had done nothing for which he
could blame himself. He watched the fallen man narrowly as he drew near
him, but there was no motion or any other sign of life.

"I must have killed him outright!" He sprang from his horse and bent
over the prostrate form, but he did not have to look more than once.
"That hole--that's where the bullet went in. It must have gone right
through his heart. Well, he would have killed me if I had not killed
him. I would not have hurt him if I could have helped it."

It seemed to Sile a matter of course that he should pick up the red
warrior's rifle, unbuckle and take off the bead-worked belt that carried
his knife and revolver, take his lance, catch his horse, and then ride
onward, carrying with him all as "spoils of war." He did it coolly and
steadily but rapidly, and without any idea how very fast he was growing.
He was learning lessons in a great school, but any wise old man could
have told him that no two boys learn the same lessons anywhere. A good
deal more depends upon the boy himself than upon the school or the
teacher.

That tall, brawny Apache warrior had been a distinguished brave, and he
had been sent upon a scouting trip away in advance of the rest merely as
a customary precaution. There had been no expectation that he would
discover anything remarkable. In meeting a solitary pale-face, he had
undertaken to kill him very much as a matter of course, for he was just
then at war with all white men. Sile had made the better shot of the
two, and that was about all that could be said. As for Sile, he was in a
greater hurry than ever to get to the mine, and again and again he
wondered whether Two Arrows had met any Apaches.

"I do hope he hasn't," he said to himself, "with only a bow and arrows.
I wish he had a rifle."

CHAPTER XXV

A MIDNIGHT MARCH

When Two Arrows parted from Sile he was well aware that the errand of
the Red-head had more real peril in it than his own, and he would not
have had him armed with only a bow and arrows; but oh how he did long
for a repeating-rifle for his own use! He had been hungry enough for one
before; but now that there was a promise of war it seemed to him that
the only thing in the world worth the having, except a horse, was one of
the white man's terrible weapons. With such as he now had he had