THE SOUND OF A PISTOL.

JUST as night was closing in, an occurrence took place which caused our friends more alarm than anything during the day.

Their position was almost due east of the adobe building, which it will be remembered was about a mile distant. The Apaches, who had been circling about on their ponies in an aimless way, drew nearer the building, until in the gathering gloom they were seen to be only a few hundred yards’ distant.

Suddenly one of their number dashed off with his horse on a dead run to the east. He did not take a course toward the whites, but aimed for the elevation which extended in a southerly direction. It looked as if he meant to learn whether any friends of the little garrison were in the neighborhood.

“If he goes over the ridge,” said Strubell in a low tone, as all eyes were fixed on him, “he must see us.”

He did not pass over, but halted at the top and sat motionless on the bare back of his pony, evidently engaged in scanning every portion of the visible prairie. At this moment old Eph glanced at the animals, a short way behind them, and saw that his horse was in the act of rising. His forequarters were up, and his head raised, after the manner of his kind, when his master spoke sharply and he immediately sank back again.

The action of the steed was as singular as it was unfortunate, and for a minute everyone was sure the discovery had been made. But the action of the Apache to the south left the matter in doubt. He wheeled about and rode back to his comrades at an easier pace, but they did not gather around him, as they would have been quite sure to do if he had borne important news to them.

The result was that neither Bozeman nor the Texans knew whether the Apache had seen them or not—a state of doubt as trying as actual discovery.

The belief was that the action of the horse had not betrayed them, for, until the red men faded from view in the deepening gloom, nothing to show the contrary was observable.

The night promised to be favorable for the dangerous enterprise. It would be quite dark, the moon not appearing until late, there was no wind, and, in the stillness, the slightest sound could be heard for a long distance. If the Apaches knew nothing of the party behind the elevation, they would be likely to remain on their horses, whose tread could be detected long before they were visible, while the advance of old Eph was to be in such utter silence that even the wonderfully fine hearing of an Apache would avail him naught.

“I’m goin’ to start soon,” said the trapper, “and I want to know what’s to be said to Bell, if I get the chance to talk with him.”

“In the first place,” said Strubell, by way of reply, “Herbert is to fix the price of the ransom he’s willing to pay.”

“What do you think I ought to give?” asked the youth, who had thought a good deal over the question.

“I don’t know—but it seems to me that a thousand dollars should be the outside figure. What do you think, Baker?”

“Five hundred is my idea, but I wouldn’t think of goin’ above what you say.”

“Why,” said the surprised Herbert, “I had fixed five thousand as the limit, not knowing but that I might exceed that.”

“Don’t think of it.”

“Five thousand dollars,” repeated old Eph, with a low whistle, for the sum to him was a prodigious fortune.

“Well, Eph can figure as best he can, but I will agree that that sum shall be paid, if Rickard will take nothing less.”

“How are you goin’ to pay it? What are the tarms?” asked the trapper, who knew nothing about the forms of “exchange,” as it was proper to term the business in view.

“You can say to him that, if he will send Nick and his horse back to us unharmed, I will give him a draft on Mr. Lord in San Antonio for whatever sum you agree upon. He will understand that. I have the blanks with me, and can fill them in with pencil, which is as legal as ink. Then all he has to do is to hand the paper to Mr. Lord, who will give him the money without question. I will let him have another piece of writing which will insure that.”

It was all a mystery to the old trapper, who had never seen anything of the kind, and perhaps there would be more difficulty in the way than the hopeful Herbert believed, but it was the best that offered, and since Rickard must, of necessity, be compelled to trust the others to a certain extent, he was not likely to propose other terms.

The matter was made clear, so far as could be done, to Eph, who, to insure he was right, repeated his instructions until they were pronounced correct by the others. Strubell, having some education himself, helped to force the bit of knowledge into his brain.

“S’pose he says he won’t do it for five thousand, but wants six, or seven, or more—what then?” asked Eph.

“Make the best bargain you can; I am willing you should go up to six, seven—yes, ten thousand,” added Herbert, who felt in that moment that there was nothing too much for him to do for the best friend he had in the world.

“Are you crazy?” asked the amazed Strubell. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m in earnest,” was the resolute reply of the youth, who shuddered at the thought that a little haggling at the crisis might bring about the death of Nick Ribsam.

“Well,” said the Texan, “since you talk that way, you can set it down as certain that Bell Rickard will turn Nick over in a hurry.”

“Yas,” added old Eph, “and go into the bus’ness of stealin’ younkers instead of hosses, for it will pay him much bigger.”

“But there’s one thing you can work in,” remarked Lattin, “that is, that he won’t have any trouble in gettin’ any sum up to five thousand, but when you go above that, there’s sure to be difficulty and he may lose the whole thing.”

All agreed that this was a clever idea which would have weight with the horse thief. The trapper promised to make the best use of it.

There seemed to be nothing more to settle, and Eph was ready to start.

“I’m goin’ straight for the front of the buildin’,” he said, “for the chance is as good on one side as t’other, but it will take me a good while to git thar.”

“Suppose you run into trouble,” suggested Strubell, “you must make a break for us and we’ll do what we can for you.”

“I won’t do nothin’ of the kind,” was the reply of the trapper, “for that would be the last of you; I’ve got to go under some time, and what difference whether it’s sooner or later? If the varmints jump onto me, I’ll make the best fight I kin, but I don’t want any of you foolin’ round; all you need to do is to look out for yourselves and leave me alone.”

It was useless to argue with old Eph, and no one tried to do so. After all, he was more likely to be right than wrong, though it seemed cruel to remain idle when he was in extremity.

“Wal, I’m off,” he said, rising to his feet and striding down the slope toward the building.

As he did so he formed a striking figure. He loomed up large and massive in the gloom, with his long rifle grasped in his left hand, and his right resting on the revolver which he carried in the girdle about his waist. He took long steps, for he was so far from his destination that it was too soon to creep, but as his moccasins pressed the grass, not one of those watching him heard any sound. The progress of a shadow across the wall could not have been more silent.

The huge form quickly melted into the gloom, and all was still. Not once had the Apaches given utterance to their whoops, and they were so distant that the sounds of their horses’ hoofs could not reach the watchers, a fact which the latter took as proof that the warriors had not discovered their presence on the elevation.

The minutes that followed were trying. The Texans knew that a long time must elapse before the trapper would reappear, even if the circumstances were favorable; in fact half the night was likely to pass ere he would show up again.

As nearly as they could judge, an hour had gone, during which the same profound quiet held reign, when all were startled by the sharp crack of a pistol from the direction taken by the trapper.

“What I feared!” whispered Lattin; “he’s in trouble!”