“Here we are,” said Mickey. “here’s the spot where I left my cratur a couple of days ago, and where I don’t see him just now.  Use your eyes a bit, and tell me whether you obsarve him.”

Fred was scarcely less anxious than his friend to recover the steed, for, recalling his experience in that line, he had good reason to mistrust Indian horses.  It would be very awkward, when they should find a party of Apaches howling and rushing down upon them, to have the animal turn calmly about and trot back to his former friends, carrying his two riders into captivity, or leaving them to shift for themselves.

Nothing could be seen of the creature, but there was a fringe of wood on the opposite side where he might be concealed, and Mickey slid off the blanket with the intention of hunting for him.

“Don’t let this spalpeen give ye the slip,” he cautioned the lad, as he gave the lariat into his hand; “for if mine is gone, this is the only one we have to depend on, and we can’t spare him.”

Fred felt a little uncomfortable when he found himself alone and astride of the fiery steed, which pricked up his ears as though he meditated mischief; but the horse seemed to think better of it, and continued so quiet that the young rider ventured to transfer his attention from him to Mickey, who was moving across the open space in the direction of the wood upon the opposite side.

The moonlight was so clear that he could be as plainly seen, almost, as if it were midday.  As he moved along, he brought his rifle around to the front, so that he could use it at a moment’s need, for he could not but see the probability that, if his horse had been lately disturbed, it was likely that those who did so were still in the vicinity, and no place was more likely to be used for a covert than the same patch of timber which he was approaching.

“Be the powers! but it looks a little pokerish!” he said to himself, slowing his gait, and surveying the wood with no little distrust.  “There might be a dozen of the spalpeens slaaping there wid one eye open, or all sitting up and expicting me.”

He had proceeded so far however, that it was as dangerous to turn back as it was to go on, for if any enemies were there, they were so close at hand that they could easily capture or shoot him before he could reach his horse.  He was scarcely moving, and doing his utmost to penetrate the deep shadow, when, beyond all question, he heard a movement among the trees.  He paused as if he had been shot and cocked his rifle, looking toward the point from whence came the noise.

“Aisy there, now,” he said in a solemn voice.  “I won’t stand any of your thricks.  I’m savage, and when I’m that way I’m dangerous, so if yees are there spake out, or else come out like a man, and tell me your name, be the token of which mine is Mickey O’Rooney from Ireland.”