to make a long detour in order to get to the
farther side of the mountain.

Rube started off at a brisk walk, and was in hopes of reaching camp
early in the forenoon. The wild desolation of these mountain heights
oppressed him. So much so that he was startled by the cry of a jay.

He looked round, thinking it strange that such a bird should live
here--here, where there were no trees and none of the smaller animals
for a jay to kill and feed upon.

As he turned, he saw a movement beside an outcropping rock. At the
same instant something like the buzz of a large insect sounded close
over his head. He saw an arrow strike the ground and remain upright,
trembling with the impact.

Rube knew now the meaning of the jay's cry. It was not the cry of a
bird, but the signal call of an Indian.

He started to run in his original direction, but he had not gone more
than a hundred yards when another arrow struck his cap, taking it off.
He staggered, then, taking a new direction, ran a few strides, then
stopped in hesitation, seeing an Indian rise to his knees, fixing an
arrow to his bowstring.

With a quick glance Rube realized that he was surrounded, and that
there was no way of escape, no shelter of any sort on the barren
mountain side. He drew his revolver as the Redskins closed in upon him.

Just as he was about to press the trigger, he reflected upon the
inevitable consequences. They would capture him in any case; he could
not escape. But if he killed one of their tribe they would torture him
to death; whereas, if he quietly submitted, there would still be a
chance of his being set free and unharmed.

The Indians had already seen his pistol, however, and they did not
doubt that he intended to use it. They ran swiftly up to him. One
approached from behind and seized him by the arms.

Rube struggled, but was soon overpowered and flung to the ground, where
his hands were tied to his back. What became of his cap and revolver
he did not see, for a greasy, ill-smelling rag was bound tightly over
his eyes.

They led him away, forcing him to a quick walk down the mountain side,
for miles and miles, it seemed. He often stumbled on the rough ground.

Sometimes he was half-pushed, half-dragged along the rocky side of a
watercourse; more than once he was led waist deep across a rushing
stream that was icy cold. Then there was a steep climb up another
mountain slope and down into a farther valley.

Here the Indians