As it was, however, the pursuing warrior was dumbfounded, and he stopped as suddenly as if smitten by a bolt from heaven.  Leaving his mustang to look out for himself, he darted to the opposite side of the ravine from that taken by the lad, for the purpose of securing cover before a second volley could be fired.

Fred heard the report of the rifle-shots, and sup posed that he was the target and that they had been fired by Waukko and his companion.  Instead of stopping to ascertain, he continued his flight with all the desperation of combined hope and despair.

A few seconds sufficed to carry him across the ravine, and among the rocks, boulders, and stunted growth.  The panting fugitive was rendered almost frantic by the thought that he was about to elude the red-skin after all.  As he bounded into cover, he cast a terrified glance backward, to see how close to his heels was his dreaded enemy.

Not an Indian was visible.

But although Fred failed to see anything of his enemies, he could not but believe that they were somewhere in the immediate neighborhood, and he did not relax his efforts in the slightest.  Such strenuous efforts speedily exhausted him, and after climbing, clambering, and stumbling forward and upward for some twenty rods or so, he tripped and pitched forward upon his face, where he lay panting, and so weak that he could not rise.  He was sure he heard the footsteps of his pursuer but a short distance away, and the most that he could do was to raise his head and glance furtively in the direction.  He had not the strength absolutely to rise to his feet and run away.

Again and again he was confident that the Apache was close to him, but still he did not become visible, and all this time Fred was rapidly regaining his strength.  In a very short time his rapid breathing subsided, and he felt his old vigor and vitality creeping back into his limbs.  He was ready to spring to his feet again, but he did not deem it best.  It seemed to him that the warrior had lost sight of him, and was looking about.  If the boy, therefore, should rise to his feet, he would be the more likely to be seen, and if he remained where he was he was sure of being found.

He compromised the matter by crawling forward on his hands and knees, listening and looking, and continually pausing to prevent creeping into the arms of his enemies.  All this time night was approaching, and with the passage of each minute came a corresponding rise in the hopes of the fugitive.  Fred kept moving forward upon his hands and knees, climbing higher and further away from the point of danger.

Everything remained as silent as the tomb.

The Apache that Fred fancied was so close upon him was, in reality, playing hide and seek with the Kiowas, a business which is generally conducted in silence, unless the stillness be broken by the occasional crack of the rifle, or the death-yell of one of the participants.  The footsteps which the boy fancied he heard were all in his imagination.  In fact, he was alone.  No human eye saw him, or took cognizance of his movements.  For the present he was left to himself.