The latter was about as furious as a wild Indian could be, without exploding.  Lone Wolf had his own theory of the thing, and he inquired particularly as to the manner in which the fatal wounds seemed to have been inflicted.  When they were described, all doubt was removed from the mind of the chieftain.

He knew where the fatal shots came from, and he determined that there was no better time to “square accounts.”  Calling the larger portion of his company about him, he started backward and away from the ravine, his purpose being to reach the rear of his enemy by a long detour.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

All this was grist for Mickey and Fred. The long silence and inaction—­so far as these two were concerned—­of the Apaches convinced the fugitives that some important interruption was going on, and that it could not fail to operate in the most direct way in their favor.  It was well into the afternoon when the collision occurred between them and the Apaches, and enough time had already passed to bring the night quite close at hand.  An hour or so more, and darkness would be upon them.

“I don’t belave the spalpeens have found put just the precise spot where we’ve stowed away,” said Mickey, in his cautious undertone, to his companion, “for I’ve no evidence that such is the case.”

“They may take it into their heads to come into the fissure again, and then where are we?”

“Right here, every time.  We couldn’t get a better spot, unless it might be at the mouth.”

“Don’t you think we had better go there?” asked the lad, who could not feel the assurance of his friend.

“I see nothing to be gained by the same, as Tim O’Loony said when some one told him that honesty was the best policy.  If we start to return there, they’ll find out where we are, and begin to roll stones on us.  I don’t want to go along, dodging rocks as big as a house, wid an occasional rifle-shot thrown in, by way of variety.”

“Don’t you fear they will creep in and try to surprise us?”

“Not before dark, and then we can shift our position.”

“Do you believe there is any hope at all for us in the way of getting out?”

The Irishman was careful not to arouse too strong hopes in the breast of the lad, and he tried to be guarded in his reply: 

“An hour ago I would have sworn if there war a half-dozen of us in here, there was no show of our getting away wid our top-knots, for the raison that there is but one hole through which we could sneak, and there’s twenty of ’em sitting round there, and watching for us; but I faal that there is some ground for hope.”

“What reason for your saying there is hope?  Isn’t it just as hard to get out the front without being seen?”

“It might be just now; but there’s no telling what them ither spalpeens mane to do arter the sun goes down.  S’pose they get Lone Wolf and his men in such a big fight that they’d have their hands full, what’s to hinder our sneaking out the back-door during the rumpus, hunting up our mustangs, or somebody else’s, and resooming our journey to New Boston, which these spalpeens were so impertinent as to interrupt a short time since?”