Ellis Edward Sylvester
Through Apache Land

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE INDIAN FIGHT

In spite of his great anxiety to learn all there was to be known about the camp fire, Ned remained where he was for half an hour, until he had rested somewhat from his severe labor.

The place in which the fire was kindled was elevated, rocky, uneven, and inclosed by a few stunted trees and undergrowth, so that while the young scout could catch a glimmer, now and then, of the fire, he could see nothing more. The only way in which he could perfect his information was to crawl up still nearer. This he proceeded to do, using all the care and caution possible, until, after the lapse of nearly an hour, he reached a point where his view was unobstructed and perfect.

A severe disappointment awaited him. He saw four Indian warriors grouped around the fire, their dress, and the peculiar manner in which they were painted, proving that they belonged to some tribe other than the Apaches. Three of them were occupied in cutting up and preparing the carcass of some animal, which they had shot, while the fourth was on his knees in front of the fire, carefully doctoring it for culinary purposes.

Succeeding Ned's first feeling of disappointment was an undercurrent of hope that he was in a fair way to obtain another good meal.

"It isn't likely they'll eat up all they've got," he reflected, "and I don't suppose they're going to settle down there for life. All I've got to do, then, is to hang round until they go away, and then, if I can get the chance, I'll stuff enough to last a week."

Having made his reconnaissance he withdrew to a more secret place, where he would not be seen in case some of the warriors should take a look around before retiring for the night. It was fortunate that he did so, for he had scarcely crawled away beneath a dense mass of undergrowth when he made the discovery that he had placed himself in a curious and singularly dangerous position.

Twice he fancied he heard a faint rustling in the rear of where he was crouching, and he was puzzled to know what it meant. He was sharp enough to protect himself from observation from this direction as well as from the front, and was no more than fairly secure when he caught the slight sound again, and the next moment detected the figure of an Indian stealing along, with his gaze fixed upon the camp fire and the forms around it.

The lad was naturally puzzled to understand the meaning of this. There was just enough fire light penetrating to where he was to show him that this redskin belonged to a different tribe from those in camp. Only a few minutes passed when he caught the glimpse of another warrior on the left, crouching along in the same manner as the other. Then followed the softest possible hiss, such as is made by the disturbed serpent, and, at that moment, the truth of the whole matter suddenly broke upon Ned Chadmund.

The strange Indians were quietly preparing their supper, unaware of the fact that, while they were thus employed, a party of Apaches, their deadly enemies, were closing in upon them. Thus, it was, too, that, without the knowledge of either side, the lad was directly between them, where it would seem impossible that he should escape being involved in the conflict that was rapidly drawing to a head.

There was no hope of withdrawing, for the slightest movement would be sure to make known his position, and he could only wait, therefore, the issue of the encounter with an intensity of interest which it is impossible to imagine. What could be more painfully interesting, for instance, than to watch the movements of the strange Indians as they engaged themselves in preparing their supper, conversing with each other in their grunting fashion, and to note their unconsciousness that a circle of death was slowly but surely closing in around them; to know, which they did not suspect, that the most deadly kind of encounter was close at hand? The endangered party certainly showed a lack of precaution which belongs to their people in the most ordinary cases when they went into camp in this fashion, and left the way open for such a deadly and fatal assault to be made upon them. It must have been that while engaged in the chase during the day they had made their observations, and satisfied themselves that none of their enemies were in dangerous proximity.

The odor of the cooking meat crept through the bushes to the nostrils of the hungry lad, who was almost maddened into charging upon the party himself in quest of some of the brown, crisp, roasting meat; but he restrained himself, in the hope that the issue of the unpleasantness would furnish him an opportunity to procure something for the inner man.

An Indian upon the warpath is as patient as the Esquimau who watches for a dozen hours beside the airhole, waiting for the seal to come to the surface. According to all human reasoning, there was no earthly necessity for any delay upon the part of the attacking Apaches, and yet, for full an hour longer, they maneuvered and reconnoitered, without striking a blow. Despite the tense condition of the lad's nerves, he began to grow drowsy and weary at the prolonged delay, and had the attack been deferred a short time longer, he would have dropped into a sound slumber.

The four strange Indians were permitted to finish their supper, and to engage in a comfortable smoke. This, however, was never completed. They were stretched out upon the ground in the most indolent manner imaginable, when several rifles suddenly broke the stillness, the Apache war whoop rang out with startling power, and a number of figures charged through the bushes like a horde of demons, all converging upon the group around the camp fire. Two of the latter had been instantly killed by the first volley poured in upon them. The others were wounded, but they were on their feet in an instant, fighting with the fury of tigers.

The battle was of the hurricane order, the third defender going down within a minute after the assaulting party closed in about them. The fourth, who was only slightly hurt seemed to have been caught at less disadvantage. He was a warrior of wonderful activity and strength, and used his hunting knife with good effect upon his first and second assailants with lightening-like quickness. Then as they began to crowd in upon him faster than he could provide against he circled his weapon around his head several times, so as to clear a brief open space, when, with a yell of defiance, he bounded high in the air, and vanished in the forest, his speed so amazing that it was vain for any one to think of pursuing him.

The battle ended as abruptly as it began. It was over in an instant, and the petrified spectator could scarcely realize what had taken place directly under his own eyes. He lay motionless, peering through the leaves that shut him in, scarcely daring to breathe as he watched the movements of the victors. He could scarcely suppress an exclamation of terror when he recognized among them his old captor and enemy, Lone Wolf.

"Just think of it," whispered Chadmund. "I have spent hours and hours, and have traveled night and day to get away from him, and here he is, within fifty feet of me again. How can I keep him from seeing my trail again in the morning? It does beat everything how this thing is getting mixed."

He took heart again, however, when he came to reflect that the greater part of the night was still before him, that Lone Wolf had undoubtedly given up all expectation of finding him, and, by using ordinary caution, he could still keep clear of him.

The Apaches did not remain long upon the scene of the encampment. The two of their own number that had been killed were lifted up, and then Lone Wolf and his few intrepid warriors took their departure. Thus it happened that within fifteen minutes after the first gun had been fired, and the first yell uttered, the boy found himself alone upon the scene of the terrible fight. Dreadful as were the place and the associations, he could not forget that he was nearly famished, and stealing his way to the fire, he hunted around until he found enough to satisfy the cravings within. This done, he made up his mind that it was best for him to do some traveling during the darkness, without waiting for the rising of the morrow's sun.

CHAPTER XIX.
A TERRIBLE MEETING

As he moved along, weary and worn, the memory of the horrid fight he had seen by the camp fire, and especially the picture of those three stark, bloody forms that lay stretched upon the earth, seemingly watching every movement he made, followed and weighed him down like some smothering incubus. Then he saw, more vividly than ever before, the mountainous task ahead. With no horse, and the hundreds of miles of mountain and prairie, with the dangers besetting him on every hand, what possible hope had he for believing he was ever to reach his destination? The gloom of the night, the shadow of what he had so recently witnessed, and his own exhausted condition, no doubt had much to do with the distress; for his prospects were certainly as good as at morning, when he was so full of enthusiasm.

"I can't travel any further," he finally exclaimed, "and what's the use? It won't do any good."

When he paused in his wearisome tramp, he happened to be close to a tree, quite lofty, with numerous limbs, some of which were quite near the ground. It struck him at once that it would be a good plan to climb into this, and ensconce himself among the branches. At any rate, he was certain to be out of the way of the crawling snakes, and no wild animal could steal upon him while he was unconscious.

Without pausing more than a moment to consider, he ascended the tree, and, a short distance from the ground secured the very position he wanted. Here the limbs crossed and recrossed, and gnarled themselves in such a way, that the most pleasant kind of bed imaginable was found, and he stretched out his weary limbs upon it, thanking Heaven that had guided him to such a favorable place.

"I hope Lone Wolf won't be able to follow me here," was the wish he expressed, as he resigned himself to slumber.

But gentle sleep had not yet closed his eyelids when he was alarmed by hearing something beneath him. His first supposition was that it was Lone Wolf, for the sound resembled the stealthy tread of some person upon the soft earth; but after listening a few minutes he became satisfied that it was some animal instead.

"It's a wolf or panther that has scented my trail," was his conclusion, as he leaned over and peered cautiously down among the branches.

The moon shone more brightly than upon any night since he had started, but the shadow of the trees themselves obscured his view so much that his vision was of little use to him. It seemed to him, however, when he looked downward in this fashion, that once or twice he caught sight of a shadowy creature, whisking back and forth, leaping about like a dog, and apparently ready to make a bound upward among the branches.

But he could not make certain of what he saw, although there could be no doubt but that he heard something, and that some kind of a dangerous creature was close at hand.

"I guess he isn't going to hurt me," was his conclusion, after watching and listening a half hour, and after finding a heavy drowsiness was stealing over him. In this comfortable state of mind, he soon closed his eyes, and relapsed into a deep, refreshing sleep, which lasted an hour or more, when it ended in a peculiar manner. Very few boys are apt to lie quiet in their beds, and Ned Chadmund, in turning over upon his side, turned completely out of bed, and dropped through the branches to the ground.

The fall was so slight that it did not hurt him, except in the disagreeable shock that was inevitable. It flashed on him on the instant, and, recalling those stealthy footsteps that had so frightened him, he instantly sprang for the trunk, and began climbing with all the haste at his command. He was almost within reach of the limbs, when he heard a growl, and some denizen of the forest came plunging toward him.

With a thrill of terror, the lad made a tremendous effort, caught the limb with one hand, swung his leg over and drew himself up. As he did so, he felt distinctly the wind made by the body of the beast, as it leaped upward, and snapped with his huge jaws at his legs, which were withdrawn from its fangs just as they closed together. The creature, whatever it was, made a running leap, that carried him some distance beyond, when he struck the ground and ran a few leaps before turning about and retracing his steps.

Without waiting to gain a more distinct view, the lad crept back to his perch, where he tremblingly awaited the moment when it was to bound up among the limbs and attack him. After gaining his former position, he sat for a few minutes shivering like one with the ague, forgetting even to think of the revolver with which to defend himself in case the brute assaulted him. But it may have been that the dumb creature believed that he was already frightened to death, and there was no occasion for attempting anything further. At any rate nothing more was seen or heard of him.

Ned had been too thoroughly shaken up to gain any more sleep. He sat through the remaining hours of the night without closing his eyes a moment in slumber. They were the longest and the dreariest that he ever spent, but when the welcome light of morning came his foe had departed.

The wanderer waited a half hour or more, and carefully reconnoitered the grounds before descending; but, assured that the coast was clear, he came down to terra firma again and took up his line of march. His fear now was that his presence in the neighborhood might be discovered by Lone Wolf or some of his band, and, scarcely pausing long enough to swallow a few mouthfuls of water from a stream near at hand, he hastened forward, with his face toward the west.

It became evident, after journeying a short distance, that he was again following a distinctly-marked trail, one that was originally made by animals, most probably buffaloes, in their migrations from one section to another, and had been taken advantage of by men whose business or inclinations called them in the same direction. Here and there he saw marks that had been made by the hoofs of horses, and more than once he was certain he observed the trail of moccasins. The path was more direct and less laborious to travel, and he began to believe that, if he were left alone, he might succeed in reaching safety at some time or other.

For some two hours he tramped along through a section that gradually lost its mountainous character as he neared the rolling prairie beyond. He kept continually looking back and around him, on the alert for Indians; but not a sign was discovered, until he approached an exceptionally rocky place, where the trail wound round the masses of stone at such a sharp angle that the view was less than a dozen feet.

With no thought of danger, Ned walked around this corner, and on the instant found himself face to face with a swarthy Indian warrior who must have seen him approaching, and, dismounting from his horse, stood back and awaited his approach. That astounded look revealed not only this, but that the Indian was Lone Wolf.

Fate had brought the two together again, at the very time the heart of the weary fugitive was beating high with hope. There was no chance for retreat or hope of avoiding him. The eyes of the painted Apache glowed with a demoniac light, and his fingers twitched as he placed his right hand upon the buckhorn handle of a knife at his girdle.

"You run away – you see well – you lie – now I will cut out your eyes, and you will not see to run away again!"

There was no doubt that such was the purpose of the warrior, as he advanced upon the lad, who suddenly thrust his hand into his waistcoat for his revolver.

It was gone!

During the night it had dropped out without being noticed, and he was absolutely defenseless. He was breathless, paralyzed with terror.

"Yes, I will cut out your eyes, and then you will not see to run away," added the chief, striding toward him.

"Hold on thar, my copper-colored friend! This 'ere is a little row you kin settle with me, instead of that boy thar. Try that knife on my eyes, and while you're doing it, I'll try mine on yourn."

It was Tom Hardynge, the scout, who spoke thus opportunely.

CHAPTER XX.
WHITE VS. RED

The hunter seemed to step forth from some crevice in the rocks, wherein he had been concealed, and strode forward in such a manner that Lone Wolf saw him at the very instant the first word was uttered.

The latter withdrew his gaze from the boy and turned with lightning-like swiftness upon his adversary, while the latter, as cool and self-possessed as if he were about to slice up an antelope or buffalo, continued approaching with his hunting knife firmly clasped in his right hand. The Indian, perceiving the character of the fight, flung his rifle several yards from him, where it was beyond the reach of both, and recoiling a single step, put himself in form to receive the charge of his assailant.

"Ned, my boy," said the latter, without looking at him, "get back. There's no telling what may happen."

This was no more than a prudent caution. The fight was over the boy, and if Lone Wolf should find the battle going against him, he would resort to any treacherous trick by which to destroy the prize, – such, for instance, as a sudden dart upon the unsuspecting spectator and the plunging of his knife to his heart before the active hunter could thwart him. Ned obeyed his rescuer, whom he had never seen before, and stepped back full a dozen yards from the combatants, but with his eyes intently fixed upon them.

Tom was not the man to advance blindly to the assault, for none knew better than he did the character of the foe he was about to assail. When, therefore, he was just within striking distance, he paused, and, with his grey eyes centered upon the black, snake-like orbs of the chief, began circling around him in a stealthy cat-like movement, on the lookout for some opening of which he might take advantage.

"Lone Wolf is a coward and a dog," he growled between his set teeth. "He fights with pappooses, but he is afraid of men."

This was said with the sole purpose of exasperating the warrior, who would thus have been placed at a slight disadvantage; but he was already like a concentrated volcano – calm outwardly, but surcharged with fire and death within. The taunt did not move his nerves an iota, and he replied in words which were scarcely less irritating.

"It is the boasting dog which never hurts. If Lone Wolf is a dog, why are you so afraid to come within his reach?"

The words were yet in his mouth when the scout dashed forward like a catapult and struck a tremendous blow, driven with such directness and swiftness that it could not have been parried. At the very instant Hardynge made the charge, Lone Wolf did the same, and the two similar blows, aimed at the same moment, encountered half way with such terrible violence that both knives were hurled twenty feet beyond over the cliff at their side, and irrevocably beyond their reach. This left them with no weapons except such as nature had provided them with, and, now that their blood was up and each was smarting under the pain of the first collision, they immediately closed in and grappled each other like a couple of infuriated gladiators.

Hardynge was a marvel of strength and activity, and so was the Apache. The two were nearly evenly matched, a slight superiority in wrestling attaching to the white man, who, after a furious struggle of a minute or so, flung his antagonist as flat as could be, upon his back. He struck like an India-rubber ball, and, before Tom could fasten him down, so as to hold him, bounded up again and renewed his fight without a second's hesitation.

"The devil take you!" growled the maddened hunter, as he let drive a sledgehammer-like blow straight from the shoulder.

It encountered the chief fairly upon the forehead, with a force apparently sufficient to crush his skull, but it only sent him reeling back several paces, when his sinewy activity saved him from falling. With the same unhesitating promptness he charged as before.

"If that skull ain't more than six inches thick, it'll go this time," muttered Tom, as he gathered all his strength and sent out his fist like the thrust of a piston rod.

But Lone Wolf was expecting it and a quick flirt of the head to one side let the mallet go harmlessly by, while the impetus of his own blow threw Hardynge forward several steps, and narrowly escaped carrying him off his feet altogether. With an exasperating taunt the chief landed a blow upon the face of his antagonist as he shot by, and, catching him about the shoulder before he could recover, flung him to the ground with great violence, falling heavily upon him.

Had the knife of the Apache been in his hand at this juncture he would have ended the struggle in short order; but he was without the means of improving his advantage, and before he knew it he was turned from the chest of the prostrate man. And this critical moment, when the issue of the contest was very doubtful, a second figure came out from the rocks, and approached the combatants. It was that of Dick Morris, who coolly asked:

"Sha'n't I knock him on the head, Tom, and end this little row?"

"No," fairly shouted the enraged hunter, as they hammered away at each other. "If you do it, I'll knock you on the head. This is a fair and square fight in which the best man wins. If I can't knock thunder and lightning out of this redskin, let him knock it out of me. Stand back!"

"All right," replied Dick, very contentedly, walking to where the enthralled Ned Chadmund stood and asking him whether he wished to stake a little wager on the result.

The appearance of this third party ended the contest in a manner neither of the whites anticipated. The words of Tom Hardynge, declining the assistance of his friend, were understood by Lone Wolf; but, treacherous and faithless himself, he regarded them as only a part of a trap in which he was to be caught, and his whole purpose was to get out of the dilemma as quickly as possible. However hopeful he might be in a single hand-to-hand encounter with one of the men, he was not vain enough to think that he could master both. In their struggling they had approached quite close to the cliff, and Lone Wolf made a determined attempt to throw Tom over. By a little feinting and dodging, he managed to get him between himself and the edge and then began pressing him furiously.

"That's your game, is it?" exclaimed the scout. "If it is, sail in, and may the best man win."

Both were striking very wildly, when, hastily parrying several blows, Hardynge made a sudden rush, closed in, grasping the chief around the waist, and, lifting him clear of the ground, ran to the edge of the cliff and flung him over!

But Hardynge was outwitted. This was the very thing for which Lone Wolf had maneuvered so slyly. The cliff was not more than twenty feet in height, and when the hunter peered over the margin, expecting to see his enemy dashed to pieces at a great depth below, he saw him land as lightly as a panther upon his feet and then whisk out of sight among the rocks.

"Thunder and blazes!" he exclaimed, when he comprehended the little trick that had been played upon him. Jerking off his hat, he slammed it impatiently to the ground, and turning to his comrade, said:

"Did you ever see a bigger fool than me?"

"Don't think I ever did," was the serious reply.

"Never thought what the Injun was after till it was too late to hinder him."

"I knowed it all the time. This ere little chap could have seed as much himself," was the tantalizing reply.

"Why didn't you sing out, then, when you seed me pick him up and start to throw him over?"

"'Cause I thought you was only fooling. Do you know there's a reward of five hundred dollars offered for Lone Wolf, dead or alive? See what you have lost?"

"Who offered it?" demanded Tom.

"Colonel Chadmund told me that old Captain Alvarez, that owns a big ranch near Santa Fe, lost a thousand cattle by a stampede that he had got up, and he's the man that has promised a hundred times to give that reward to whoever wipes out the chief."

"Anything else to tell?" said Hardynge, disgustedly.

"Yes. When Colonel Chadmund told me that, he punched me slyly in the side, and says, 'And yes, Dick, I'll put another five hundred on top of it.'"

"Hain't you got a little more such news?" asked poor Tom, who was wondering whether it was possible to feel any more angered or disgusted with himself than he now felt.

"No – that'll do just now. I think you've had enough."