It seemed strange to both of the latter that he could have left his mustang so far away from the place where his self-imposed duties had called him to bring to naught the cunning of his great enemy, the principal war-chief of the Apaches.  But the truth was, the camps of the scout and the redskins were not so widely separated as Mickey and Fred believed.  He had selected the best site possible, and took a roundabout course in going to or from it, as he had more means given him of concealing his trail.  There were places where the soil was so rocky and stony that the foot left not the slightest imprint of its passage.

They had gone but a short distance from the ravine when they encountered one of the very stretches so valuable to persons in their predicament.  No grass or vegetation of any kind impeded their way, and it was like walking over a hard, uncarpeted floor.  Making their way across this, they struck into a wood that was denser than any they had encountered thus far.  There their progress was slow, but they continued steadily forward, talking but little, and then in guarded tones.  About the hour of midnight the camp of Sut Simpson was reached.

CHAPTER XXI.

SAFETY AND SLEEP.

There was nothing especially noticeable in the site which the scout had selected for his camp fire.  His principal object had been secrecy and he had obtained it beyond all peradventure.  The place was more like a cavern than anything else, except that it was open at the top, but it was walled in on the four sides, so there was barely room for the three to enter.  As the scout explained, he was perfectly familiar with that section of the country, and he lost no time in hunting out the spot.  He had his horse with him at the time the Apaches drove Mickey and Fred in among the rocks, and he staid until pretty certain they could keep the Apaches at bay until dark, when he made his way to a level spot inclosed by rocks.  There he kindled a fire, cooked some antelope and left his mustang to graze and browse near by, while he returned to the assistance of his friends.

“Where did ye shoot that uncleope, or antelope?” asked Mickey.

“I didn’t shoot him at all; he’s the one you fetched down.  Yer left enough for me, so I didn’t run the risk of firing my gun when the varmints were so close by, so I sliced out a hunk or two from the carcass, and fetched it along.”

“Ye haven’t got any of it about ye?”

“Not enough for yer folks—­no more than three or four pounds.”

“Be the powers but ye’re right.  That’s ’nough to stay our stomach, as me sick aunt remarked after swallowing her twenty-third dumpling.”

At the moment the party walked in among the rocks the smoldering embers of the camp-fire were plainly seen.  They needed but a little stirring to break forth into flame again, so as to light up the interior, which was about a dozen feet square, with a height of a dozen feet, more or less.  When the Irishman signified that something in the way of food would be acceptable, the scout produced it from among the leaves near at hand, and it was devoured with the heartiest kind of appetite.  They had drank all the water they needed, and the three assumed easy, lounging attitudes, Mickey lighting his pipe and enjoying himself immensely.