long as the Apaches
are on the move."

"But how can we get any farther? We can't ride right through them."

"I should say not; nor over them either. But if we can get into that
pine-forest over there on the north slope, without being seen, we can
ride around them."

"I'll risk it, Murray."

"So will I, Steve. I'd never let you try a thing like that alone."

"I could do it."

"Perhaps. And you'll have a good many things of that kind to do before
you reach the settlements; but I guess I'll go with you this time."

"You'd better go with me all the way."

Murray said nothing, but he sprung from his horse, and Steve imitated
him.

Men on foot were not so likely to be seen from the Apache camp.

There was nothing in or about that camp which Murray did not carefully
study through his glass, and it showed him what was going on more
clearly and perfectly than even the wonderfully keen black eyes of
Ni-ha-be had shown it all to her, from almost the same spot, the day
before.

"It's a hunting-camp, Steve, but it's a very strong party."

"Too strong for our Lipans?"

"I don't know about that. If we could surprise them by night we might
do something with them."

"I'm no Lipan, Murray. None of those people down there ever did me any
harm. Did they ever do you any? I don't mean any other Apaches; I'm
just speaking of that camp."

"Well, no, I'm not sure about that. I don't know that I've any special
grudge against this lot."

"Seems to me it's a good deal like an Indian to kill one man for what
another man did. I'm only a boy, and I've been among the Lipans three
years, but I've made up my mind to stay white."

Steve spoke with a good deal of energy, and his robust form seemed to
stand up straighter.

"You're right, Steve; don't you do a thing that isn't fit for your
color. I won't say anything more about myself just now."

If anybody had been listening to those two that morning, or indeed at
any other time, he might have noticed something curious about the way
Steve Harrison talked. It was not to be wondered at that a veteran
like Murray should be slow of speech, and it suited well with his white
hair and his wrinkles.

There was a good reason for it. Except when talking with Murray, Steve
had not heard a word of English for three years.

Yes, there had been one other exception. When, ever he had found
himself all alone he had talked to himself, asking and answering
questions, and listening