“I didn’t like to say it before Susy and—­her!” stammered the boy.

“Her?”

“Yes, sir—­Mrs. Peyton,” said Clarence blushingly.

“Oh,” said Harry sarcastically, “how blessed polite we are!”

“That’ll do.  Let up on him, will you?” said Peyton, roughly, to his subordinate.  “The boy knows what he’s about.  But,” he continued, addressing Clarence, “how was it the Injin didn’t see you?”

“I was very still on account of not waking Susy,” said Clarence, “and—­” He hesitated.

“And what?”

“He seemed more keen watching what you were doing,” said the boy boldly.

“That’s so,” broke in the second man, who happened to be experienced, “and as he was to wind’ard o’ the boy he was off his scent and bearings.  He was one of their rear scouts; the rest o’ them’s ahead crossing our track to cut us off.  Ye didn’t see anything else?”

“I saw a coyote first,” said Clarence, greatly encouraged.

“Hold on!” said the expert, as Harry turned away with a sneer.  “That’s a sign, too.  Wolf don’t go where wolf hez been, and coyote don’t foller Injins—­there’s no pickin’s!  How long afore did you see the coyote?”

“Just after we left the wagon,” said Clarence.

“That’s it,” said the man, thoughtfully.  “He was driven on ahead, or hanging on their flanks.  These Injins are betwixt us and that ar train, or following it.”

Peyton made a hurried gesture of warning, as if reminding the speaker of Clarence’s presence—­a gesture which the boy noticed and wondered at.  Then the conversation of the three men took a lower tone, although Clarence distinctly heard the concluding opinion of the expert.

“It ain’t no good now, Mr. Peyton, and you’d be only exposing yourself on their ground by breakin’ camp agin to-night.  And you don’t know that it ain’t us they’re watchin’.  You see, if we hadn’t turned off the straight road when we got that first scare from these yer lost children, we might hev gone on and walked plump into some cursed trap of those devils.  To my mind, we’re just in nigger luck, and with a good watch and my patrol we’re all right to be fixed where we be till daylight.”

Mr. Peyton presently turned away, taking Clarence with him.  “As we’ll be up early and on the track of your train to-morrow, my boy, you had better turn in now.  I’ve put you up in my wagon, and as I expect to be in the saddle most of the night, I reckon I won’t trouble you much.”  He led the way to a second wagon—­drawn up beside the one where Susy and Mrs. Peyton had retired—­which Clarence was surprised to find fitted with a writing table and desk, a chair, and even a bookshelf containing some volumes.  A long locker, fitted like a lounge, had been made up as a couch for him, with the unwonted luxury of clean white sheets and pillow-cases.  A soft matting covered the floor of the heavy wagon bed, which, Mr. Peyton explained, was hung on centre