“No, yer don’t—­that’s played out,” growled the scout, shoving his knife back in his girdle.  “I don’t love yer ’any more than I love the devil, and I felt happy to think that I had got a chance at last to git square with yer; but when I lift the top-knot of Lone Wolf and slide him under, he’s got to have the same chance that I have.  I don’t believe you’d act that way toward me; but, then, you’re a redskin, and that makes the difference.  Lone Wolf, we’ll adjourn the fight till you’re yerself agin.”

And, deliberately turning away, the scout vaulted upon the back of the mustang, cutting the lariat that held him by a sweep of the knife.

“I s’pose you’ll own I’ve got some claim on this beast; so good-by.”

[Illustration:  “I S’POSE YOU’LL OWN I’VE GOT SOME CLAIM ON THIS BEAST.”]

And, without turning to look at him again, he rode deliberately away.

The Apache stood like a statute staring at him until he was hidden from view by the intervening trees.  Then he turned and walked slowly in the opposite direction, no doubt with strange thoughts in his brain.

“I don’t know how that scamp will take it,” muttered Sut, as he rode along.  “He’s one of the ugliest dogs that ever wore a painted face; and if he could catch me with a broken arm or head, he wouldn’t want anything better than to chop me up into mincemeat; but, as I told the old varmint himself, he’s an Injin and I ain’t, and that’s what’s the matter.”

The wood was too dense and the ground too uneven to permit him to ride at a faster gait than a walk, but long before the appointed hour was up, he rejoined his friends, who were as surprised as pleased at his prompt reappearance.

“But where are the bastes that ye promised to furnish us?” inquired Mickey, who had very little relish for the prospect of walking any portion of the distance homeward.

“That’s what I’ll have for yer before the sun goes down,” was the confident reply.  “I’ll get you one hoss, anyway, which, maybe, is just as good as two, for the weight of the younker don’t make no difference, and we kin git along with one beast better than two.”

“I submit to your suparior judgment,” said the Irishman, deferentially, “and would suggist that the sooner the same quadruped is procured the better all round.  I hope the thing won’t be delayed, as me aunt obsarved when the joodge sintenced her husband to be hung.”

Sut explained that his plan was to ride some distance further, to a spot which he had in mind, where they would be safer against being trailed.  There, consequently, they could wait with more security while he went for the much-needed horse.  Time was precious, and no one realized it more than Sut Simpson.  He turned the head of his mustang toward the left, and, after he had started, leaped to the ground and walked ahead, acting the part of a guide for the horse as well as for his friends.

The surface over which they journeyed was of the roughest nature.  The fact of it was, the scout was working the party out toward the open prairie, without availing himself of the pass—­an undertaking which would have been almost impossible to any one else.  At the same time, by picking his way over the rocky surface, and using all means possible to conceal their trail, he hoped to baffle any pursuit that might be attempted.