Young Chadmund heard the unmistakable warning of a rattlesnake that was somewhere near him, and on the very point of striking. Precisely where it was, it was impossible to determine with any certainty; but there was no time to consider the matter. It seemed to him in that brief second he devoted to thought that the venomous reptile lay a little to the left, and he scrambled out of his place with all the celerity at his command.

The wonderful quickness of this usually sluggish snake, when about to deal its deadly blow is well known, and, had the boy moved with twice the rapidity that he did, Ned could not have escaped that lightning-like dart of the snake, which was aimed straight at his foot, that being the part of the body which was nearest his coil. The fangs struck the side of his shoe, which happened to move at the very instant the blow was made, and, piercing the leather, held the reptile fast,—"Hoist by his own petard," as it were,—so that, when Ned scrambled out from his shelter, he felt the horrid thing dangling at his heels.

With presence of mind hardly to be expected at such a time, he arose to his feet, and holding the attached foot motionless, with the other he hastily stamped all the life from the writhing rattlesnake. This done he freed the shoe by a jerk, although it tore the fangs of the reptile from its jaws.

"I think I'd better dust out of here," said the lad, breathlessly. "I remember that Corporal Hugg told me that where you found one of those things you are pretty sure of running against another close by, and I don't care about seeing any, especially when it's so dark you can't see at all."

He stepped carefully forth in the darkness, and, moving a few feet, paused to listen. The rain had ceased falling entirely, and only the faintest mutter of the distant thunder reached his ears. The darkness was absolutely impenetrable, and the wind, as it soughed through the wet branches, made the most dreary and dismal wailing—enough to strike despair to the bravest heart.

The boy had listened but a moment when a slight rustling among the leaves at his feet filled him with a sudden conviction that a second rattlesnake was after him. He left the spot expeditiously, not halting until he was sure that he was beyond reach of the unwelcome visitant, which, it is well known, is not much given to pursuing its prey.

"Hang it!" he exclaimed, "there ain't much fun in this. I wish daylight would come, so that I could see what to do."

His situation was exceedingly uncomfortable. Everything was soaked with water, and he could not walk without shaking down the moisture from the laden branches and undergrowth. He knew of but one place wherein he could secure protection and that was beneath the rock where he had so narrowly escaped the rattlesnake, but he was not very anxious to make his way back there.

While he stood debating what to do, he noticed that the sky was rapidly clearing, the black, tumultuous clouds rolling away from the face of the moon, which soon shone out with all its wonted power. This was a vast help, for, despite the dense shadows made by the heavy branches overhead, he was able to see enough to pick his way and noticed that the forest directly in front was quite open, indicating that he was close to the termination. Thus encouraged, he pressed ahead and soon had the satisfaction of finding that he was through the woods and on the border of an open, rocky ravine, through which he could hear a stream rushing with great violence, and which he took to be the outlet of the little lake that had been overcharged by the recent severe storm. So far as he could see by the moonlight, great masses of rock, boulders and broken prairie stretched out before him, and he asked himself how he was to make his way.

He concluded not to make the attempt just then, but, hunting out a place among the rocks, he crawled into it, first making sure, by a careful reconnaissance that no rattlesnakes had crept in ahead of him. He was permitted to remain undisturbed through the night, and when he opened his eyes the sun was shining directly in upon him. The boy then hastily sprang up, his heart full of gratitude to God for the wondrous manner in which his life had been preserved, and the remarkable success which had followed his attempt at escape from the Apaches.

With the coming of the glorious sunlight, Ned naturally felt buoyant and hopeful. He was not without considerable appetite, but he had eaten so heartily, on the previous evening, that he felt that he could afford to wait until night again; and he still had that impatient, almost unreasoning desire to get forward, which made him feel like breaking into a run, and keeping it up until he was out of breath.

But, young as was the little fellow, he was old enough to feel that the time had come when he must use all the brains in his command. Up to that hour, as will be understood, he had been journeying entirely at random, his sole purpose being to get beyond reach of Lone Wolf and his band. He had accomplished this, and a radical change of tactics must be made.

If Ned Chadmund had been a half dozen years older, he would have recoiled at the prospect before him; but he was so young and full of animal spirits that he did not really comprehend the difficulty and danger. He had traveled very little more than half the distance between Santa Fe and Fort Havens, and his purpose was to press ahead until the latter was reached. To do this, it was necessary that he should make his way through the mountains in which he now found himself, and then to journey a couple of hundred miles through or over prairie, and across streams, before he could reach the frontier post, where his father was so anxiously awaiting his coming. The project seemed nothing short of madness; but its justification lay in the fact that the wanderer had the choice of attempting that or lying down and dying where he was. He could do nothing but choose the former.

Ned climbed up to an elevated position and took an observation—his purpose, after learning whether any present danger threatened, being to learn the direction it was necessary to follow in order to reach Fort Havens.

"Corporal Hugg told me that after we reached Devil's Pass, it was in a straight line West. The trail winds in and out, as it has to do, but all one had to do was to dig ahead, and he would be sure to come out right in the end—that is, if the Indians and wild animals would only let him. Well, right yonder rose the sun," he continued, very carefully continuing his observation. "That must be the east, and all I have to do is to keep that at my back until it gets over my head and wears round to the front. So off we go."

There was one favorable accompaniment of this first thoughtful effort to reach home. The valley-like depression that had caught his eye upon rising ran precisely in the direction to be desired—due east and west—so that he had the best facility in the world for getting through the mountains. Still another favorable augury was that the general direction pursued by the Apaches was the same, and the fact was, there was very little still intervening between him and the open prairie beyond. Should his progress remain uninterrupted through the day, by nightfall he would be close to the prairie, which stretched away so many miles in the direction of the frontier post.

"I don't think it's as much as two hundred miles," he said, as he started off at a rapid walk. "I can make thirty miles a day, so that I will be there at the end of a week, if nothing unexpected gets in the way. Won't father be surprised when he sees me walk up, and won't I be surprised if I manage to do it, also!"