The mustang recognized the voice of his master, and obeyed as promptly as a child, coming upon his feet with the nimbleness of a racer, and ready to do what he was bidden.  Mickey led him out into the moonlight, when he left him standing, while he went a short distance for the saddle and bridle, which he had concealed at the time of leaving the spot.  They were found just as he had left them, and he returned in high feather, secured them in a twinkling upon his animal and galloped back to where the lad was waiting.

“Ye haven’t seen or heard anything of redskins, have ye, while I was procuring my cratur?”

“Nothing at all,” replied the lad; “but I heard you talking pretty loud, so I suppose you must have found several.”

“No,” answered Mickey, who did not care about explaining the whole affair.  “I’m always in the habit of exchanging a few words wid the cratur when I maats, and such was the case a short time since, when I met him, after being away so long.”

“Well, Mickey, we haven’t any time to spare.”

“Ye’re right, my laddy; all you’ve got to do is to folly me.”

With this he headed his mustang at precisely right angles to the course they followed in making their way to the spot; and Fred, who expected all sorts of trouble in the way of traveling, noticed that he was following some sort of path or trail, along which his horse trod as easily as upon the open prairie.  While this was an advantage in one respect it had its disadvantage in another.  The presence of a trail in that part of the world implied that it was one made and traveled by Indians, who were likely to be encountered at any moment, and Mickey was not insensible to the peril.  But, in the present instance, there seemed to be no other means of getting along, and thus, in one sense, they were forced into it.  The probabilities, however, were that they would soon emerge into safer territory, where it would be possible to take some precautions against pursuers.

For some time the two galloped along without speaking.  The hoofs of their mustangs rang upon the rocks, and rattled over the gravel, and, in the still night, could have been heard a long distance away.  While the Irishman kept as good a lookout ahead as possible, Fred Munson did his best to guard their rear.  He kept continually glancing over his shoulder in the expectation of seeing some of their enemies, but nothing of the kind occurred, and before he anticipated it, they emerged into what seemed a deep valley, with high rocks upon both sides.  Mickey drew up, and allowed his young friend to move alongside.

“Do ye mind ever having seen this place before?” he asked.

“I don’t remember anything about this country, and all I ask is that we may get out of it as soon as possible.”

“But don’t ye mind ever having been here before?”

Thus questioned, Fred scanned his surroundings as best he could, but there was nothing that he could identify, and he so said, adding: