Mickey heard not the slightest sound, but he imitated the action of the scout and dodged down in some undergrowth, which was dense enough to hide them from the view of any one who did not fairly trample upon them.  They had crouched but a minute or two in this position, when Mickey fancied he heard the tramp of a single horse, approaching on a slow walk.  He dared not raise his head to look, although he noticed that the shoulders of the scout in front of him were slowly rising, as he peered stealthily forward.

The experiences of the last few days had been remarkable in more than one respect.  The two men had set out to secure a horse, neither deeming it probable that the one which was desired above all others could be obtained; and yet, while they were crouching in the bushes, the very animal—­the one which had been ridden by Mickey O’Rooney—­walked slowly forth to view, on his way up the ravine or pass.  The most noticeable feature of the scene was that he was bestrode by an Indian warrior, whose head was bent in a meditative mood.  The redskin, so far as could be seen, was without a companion, the steed walking at the slowest possible gait and approaching a point which was no more than a dozen feet away.

The instant Mickey caught sight of the warrior and recognized his own horse, there was a slight movement on the part of the scout.  The Irishman narrowly escaped uttering an exclamation of surprise and delight as he identified his property, but he checked himself in time to notice that Sut was stealthily bringing his gun around to the front, with the unmistakable purpose of shooting the Apache.  The heart of the Irishman revolted at such a proceeding.  There seemed something so cowardly in thus killing an adversary without giving him an opportunity to defend himself that he could not consent to it.  Reaching forward, he twitched the sleeve of Sut, who turned his head in surprise.

“What is it ye’re driving at, me laddy?”

“Sh!—­him!” he whispered, in return, darting his head toward the slowly approaching horseman, winking and blinking so significantly that it was easy to supply the words which were omitted.

“But why don’t ye go out and tell him what ye intend, so that he can inform his friends, and bid them all good-bye?  It ain’t the thing to pop a man over in that style, without giving him a chance to meditate on the chances of his life, so be aisy wid him, Soot.”

[Illustration:  “BE AISY WID HIM, SOOT.”]

The scout seemed at a loss to understand the meaning of his companion, whose waggery and drollery cropped out at such unexpected times that no one knew when to expect it.  The Indian was approaching and was already close at hand.  Keen-eared, and with their senses always about them, Apaches are likely to detect the slightest disturbance.  The scout glanced at the horseman, and then at Mickey, who was in earnest.

“It’s the only way to git the hoss, you lunkhead, so will yer keep yer meat-trap shet?”