broader, the bottom covered with sand, and tall grasses growing wherever there was a foothold.

It was hot in the gully as the breeze was shut off and the sun looked down directly upon us. It was "snug" too, because we felt secure from being seen by any wandering parties of Apaches.

After we had been riding for about a half hour, Jim stopped his horse and dismounted, throwing the bridle over Piute's head. "I am going to reconnoiter," he said.

I watched him as he cautiously climbed up the wall of the gully and looked over the edge through a screen of grass. Almost instantly he dropped down again.

He motioned for me to dismount and I swung off, throwing the bridle over Coyote's head, the ends just trailing on the ground. This is the only kind of hitching post that a broncho needs.

CHAPTER III

THE SURPRISE

"We are almost opposite them now," Jim announced.

We went down the gulch until we came to a little bench just below the edge. We crawled upon this, and looked cautiously through a fringe of grass.

I could see a bunch of half a dozen antelope gently feeding on the level plain. "Pick your antelope," whispered Jim to me.

"I'll take the young buck," I said. "You can have the rest."

Cautiously we shoved our rifles through the grass and kneeling on one leg we drew a careful aim. "Now," exclaimed Jim.

There came two simultaneous reports and a couple of antelope dropped flat and flaccid. We fired at the remainder as they jumped into the distance. Our shots only made them go faster.

"Well," cried Jim, as we stood up, "two isn't so bad."

We got on our ponies and were obliged to ride down the gully for half a mile before we could get out where there was a narrow wash down the side.

We rode over, to where the two huddled heaps of grey laid on the plain. I had got my young buck all right, while Jim had killed a good sized doe.

"I tell you, Jim, let's take the two of them into the gully, where we will be safe from the Apaches seeing us. Cut off the best parts, then hunt back towards the camp."

"All right," Jim acquiesced, rather to my surprise.

He was likely to disregard any ordinary caution, but since his training with the captain, he was more apt to be careful and to take fewer chances.

So we flung the antelopes across the back of our saddles, tying them securely with the long leather strings and started back for the arroyo.

We kept a sharp lookout in all directions over the plains, but saw no indications of Indians, and reached our destination in safety.

"I believe that we are going to have a thunderstorm," Jim remarked.

"It certainly looks it," I replied.

Back of the range heavy thunder clouds were rolling, bringing the higher peaks out with marked distinctness and the shadow was spreading over the plains.

"It will be cooler for us, anyway," said Jim.

It certainly was a relief to have the sun obscured, and we set to work with a will. In a little over a half hour we had the antelopes divided off and securely fastened to the saddles. It did not increase the weight we had to carry much.

"I am going to take a look around," said Jim, "before we ride out into the open."

He crawled up the edge of the gully, barely raising his eyes above the level. In a moment I knew that he had seen something of interest. There was something about his figure as he crouched even lower than at first with his gaze riveted in one direction that spoke louder than words.

Then he drew slowly back and down. Reaching the bottom, he came quickly towards me; there was a smile on his face that I knew well enough.

"Indians?" I said, breathlessly.

"Yes," he replied, "there is a hunting party coming out of a small canyon above the ravine we are in."

"How many?" I asked.

"Twenty or more," he replied.

"What shall we do?" I inquired, anxiously.

"That depends on them," he replied, coolly. "We will stay where we are for the present."

"Perhaps they will pass to the north of us," I said, "and thus miss our trail."

"Maybe," he replied. "I am going to take another look."

"Me too," I said.

With extreme caution we climbed to the edge of the gully and looked over. They were still some distance off, and so far were riding parallel to the ravine we had come down.

It was the first time that I had had a good view of mounted Indians and I could not help feeling impressed. From the wild and stormy background of the thunder clad mountains they rode out upon the shadowed plains.

The ponies seemed small compared with the tall, gaunt forms of the Indians that rode them. The leader, a gigantic brave, was gesticulating freely with his long snaky arms.

I have noticed that Indians are apt to be much less stolid when mounted than on foot. With his feathered crest he seemed like a great bird of prey as he scanned the plains. There was something uncannily cruel and treacherous about them that sent a chill all over me. It was the first time that I had seen the dread Apaches, the most to be feared among all the tribes of the plains or mountains. If only the dead settlers and their families, those whom the Apaches had murdered, could speak, their stories would recall to memory horrors innumerable.

"Had we not better fight them here?" I asked, "where we have cover?"

Jim shook his head.

"No," he replied, "we might stand them off, but the country hereabouts is alive with Indians."

"Yes, I see," I replied, "and I suppose if they did not overwhelm us, they would starve us out."

"There is nothing for us to do but to make a running fight of it," said Jim, "if they should cut our trail."

"We will stand no show on the plains," I said, "it is too open."

"I believe that we can outrun them," he said, "our ponies are apt to be in better condition than theirs and then too we are light riders. We will make for the mountains and when we reach them we ought to be safe."

"They are not going to cross the gulch," I said, in a relieved tone, "perhaps they will miss our trail after all."

"It looks to me though as if they were going to strike that place where we killed the antelope," said Jim.

He gave another look at the advancing braves, then he backed down into the gulch.

"Come, Jo," he said, decisively, "we will have to run for it, in a few minutes they will cut our trail. We will only lose by waiting."

Here is where Jim showed his qualities as a leader. I would have waited, hoping to escape detection, and leaving the enemy to make the first move and thus losing seconds that were more valuable than hours under ordinary circumstances.

Our ponies were very restless, with ears pricked forward and shifting their front feet, first one and then the other. They knew even though they could not see. We swung silently into the saddles. Our ready rifles lay just in front of us.

"We are going to start now, Jo," said Jim, in a low, confident voice, "the south side of the gully is low, a hundred feet below us. That's where we show up; it will be a surprise for those beggars. When they see us, pick your Indian and fire. Remember to throw yourself to the side of your pony when they fire and run for it."

I was trembling so that I could scarcely keep my teeth from chattering. Jim was naturally brave, but I was just the average as far as courage went. Still I was a boy of high spirit, and I struggled hard to throw off my fear as Jim was giving me his instructions.

Then I thought of what the captain had told us of the bravery of the American soldiers in the Mexican war. Of Grant who was so quiet and fearless. At least I was an American. I pulled myself together and was ready.

"All ready, Jo?" asked Jim.

"Yes," I replied.

I shall never forget the thrill of excitement that went through all my nerves as we started down the gully, Jim in the lead and my horse close on