“Oh! he’s gone!” exclaimed Billie.

“Of course he is!” echoed Donald, in disgust; “say, how long did you expect a slick Injun to stay around, waiting for you to make up your mind to shoot?”

“But good gracious, Donald, what should I fire away at him for? He hadn’t done a single thing but creep up here to see who was making all this blaze and smoke. That’s a mighty little thing to try to kill anybody for. Why, I’d like as not be just as curious myself.”

Donald snorted as he turned to Adrian.

“Listen to the innocent, would you, Ad?” he remarked, in half discouraged tone. “Why, what else would a red be prowling around our camp for, except looking for a good chance to steal our horses.”

“Is that so, Donald?” Billie went on to say; “then I suppose I ought to have banged away, anyhow, and given him a scare; but you see I was that confused I hardly knew what I was about.”

“A scare!” echoed Donald. “Why, don’t you know, you innocent, that a cow-puncher would forgive a thief for robbing him of his money, and almost causing his death, quicker than he would for trying to steal his mount?”

“Yes,” Adrian went on to add, “they are a good deal like the Arab in that respect. You see, a horse means everything on the prairie, or in the desert; and to take a man’s mount is just the same as threatening his life. Did you manage to get any half-way decent look at him, Donald?”

“Well, not so you could mention it,” replied the other, who now had his gun in his hand, and was staring out into the mixture of moonlight and dim shadows as if he still clung to a faint hope that he might find a chance to use the weapon. “But there can be no question about what he was.”

“Some stray from the reservation, you think?” Adrian continued; while Billie stood near by, listening eagerly.

“Every once in so often some of the hot-blooded young bucks get a notion that things are too tame on the reservation,” Donald started to say with the air of one who knew full well what he was talking about.

“And so they start out to take a turn around,” Adrian added, “thinking they ought to copy after their ancestors, and feel wild for a spell. Sometimes they play havoc among the white, being filled with firewater; and then there is trouble enough, with some of the same young bucks getting shot. And as Donald says, an Indian can never resist a chance to steal a horse, when he’s off on a tear like that, free from all the restraint of the old men of his tribe.”

“Perhaps he may think to come back, and make another try?” suggested Billie.

“Chances are he will do just that same thing; and as he must have one or more friends along, we may have to do some business with our guns before morning,” Donald told him, positively.

Billie was duly impressed with the serious nature of the case. Still, he hardly liked the idea of being compelled to shed human blood just because of a horse like his Jupiter. Secretly he hoped that if there did come along any necessity for this sort of thing, his companions would accept some of the burden of responsibility, since they did not seem to care as much as he did.

Donald altered his plans more or less, after this plain warning. Now that they actually knew there were thieving Indians around, they could not afford to take any chances of losing their horses.

Accordingly the animals, as well as Bray the pack mule, were brought in closer to the tent. They had been given ample time to procure a supper, and should rest contented during the remainder of the night.

It was a toss-up between the two experienced cowboys as to which should take the first watch. Billie, quite satisfied to see them so eager to sit up, did all he knew how to settle the matter.

“Here, let me be the umpire, and hold these two straws in my hand,” he remarked, complacently; “now, one of them is just a mite shorter than the other; and whoever gets the short one is to play sentry first watch, hear that. You draw, Donald!”

Thereupon the party indicated proceeded to do as he was directed, and with the utmost unconcern, as though it mattered not at all to him what his luck might be.

“And you’re on deck the first thing!” announced Billie, exultantly, as he held up the remaining straw, so that they could all see it was longer than the one Donald had selected.

“Great luck, that!” the picked vidette remarked, laughingly; “for I was bound to take first choice anyhow, no matter what Ad said. But you closed him up by your little dodge, Billie, and for that thanks. Are you thinking of going inside, and getting your forty winks right now, fellows?”

They said they had intentions along those same lines, if he thought he could manage things without their help; at which Donald pretended to chase the pair to cover; and then remarked that he would find a good vantage place, where he might stand out his spell as guardian of the camp.

Perhaps Billie may not have been altogether free from anxieties as he composed himself under his blanket on that same night. The fact that hostile Indians were hovering around, with the intention of stealing their valuable mounts, caused him to feel a certain amount of nervousness. He feared that he would not be able to go to sleep as easily as was his custom; and that during the entire term of Donald’s watch he must just lie there, thinking and listening.

Six minutes after crawling under the canvas Billie’s regular breathing convinced Adrian that the fat boy was entirely oblivious to all his surroundings; and that whatever his mental troubles might be, they had for the time being vanished like the mist before the rising sun; for slumber deadens one to the cares of this world, better than anything else that is known.

Adrian himself also went to sleep, but it was in an entirely different way. He simply resolutely put all thoughts out of his mind, and in this way coaxed his senses to allow themselves to be lulled to rest. Habit can do much along these lines.

He may have been sleeping ten minutes, or perhaps it was a couple of hours; for Adrian could not even give a guess as to the truth when he was suddenly awakened by a shot outside.

Like a flash he was up on his hands and knees. Snatching his rifle from the ground he hastily crawled out of the tent; leaving Billie asking a dozen excited questions, as he too felt for his rifle, and started to follow in the wake of the more energetic chum.

When Adrian managed to gain his feet, he looked quickly around him, wondering how he could locate Donald; and if that had been the other’s gun he heard.

“This way, Ad!” called a voice just then, and he caught sight of the other waving an arm toward him from a place near by.

So Adrian started toward that quarter; and Billie, coming rolling out from the exit of the tent just then, saw him going, so of course he hastened to “paddle” along after him—that was an expression often used to describe the fat boy’s method of locomotion; and somehow it just seemed to hit the mark; since he had a peculiar sidling motion when making an advance, that reminded one of the fins of a big fish moving back and forth.

“What happened, Donald?” asked the other, as he came close up to his chum, whom he found crouched there, gun in hand, and evidently keenly on the watch for some object at which to fire.

“They were at it again, that’s what!” replied the vidette, bitterly; and somehow Adrian could see that he looked peeved, as well as puzzled; as though there were certain features connected with the happening that did not altogether please him.

“The reds, you mean?” Adrian went on to ask.

“Sure thing, Ad.”

“That looks like they meant to have our horses by fair means or foul; and I just reckon we’ll have to sit up the rest of the night, so’s to be ready to pick off the first brave who shows himself,” Adrian ventured.

Billie managed to reach them just then, and of course he was brimming over with a desire to know all that had happened. But then any one would have felt that way, after being so rudely awakened from a most enjoyable sleep, and compelled to crawl out from under his warm blanket, to experience the chill of the night air.

“Is he dead?” he asked, solemnly.

“Meaning the Injun that gave that screech, I suppose you’re asking about, Billie?” Donald went on to say, still gloomily, Adrian thought. “Well make your mind easy, for he got away, all right; though he certainly did let out a yelp that told he’d been pinked by that lead pellet.”

“You are sure of that, are you, Donald?” demanded Billie, giving an audible sigh of relief; for he had fully expected that he would be compelled to look upon the stiffening figure of a wretched Apache young brave who had been tempted to stray from the reservation, and try what it felt like to pick up the old pursuits of Geronimo, the fierce chief who gave the soldiers so much trouble years back.

“Well, I can tell you this,” replied the other; “as soon as the shot came he let out a whoop that had a lot of pain back of it. Then he limped across that little open piece yonder where the moonlight falls on the ground. I reckon his mate was waiting there in the shadows for him, with their own hosses; because I saw the one that was hurt climb on the back of a pony, whirl the animal around, and vanish in the shadows like a ghost. I lifted my gun to shoot, but thought it would be only throwing good lead away, so I held back, hang the luck!”

“I don’t see why you should feel so bad about it,” remarked Billie.

“Oh! don’t you?” remarked Donald, who was unusually grumpy, Adrian realized.

“Why, no,” the fat chum went on to say, “if you had one crack at him, and as you say, managed to give him some sort of a wound that he won’t forget in a hurry; besides chasing the beggars away in the bargain. You hadn’t ought to kick, Donald.”

“Well, I wouldn’t, if only I’d had as much fun as you mention,” observed Donald, briskly; “but fact is, fellows, it wasn’t me that fired that shot at all; but it seemed to come from away over yonder. I heard the crack, and looked out just in time to see that limping Injun pass over, and manage to get on his pony. Before I could remember that I held a gun he was gone. And what’s bothering me is, who’s our unknown friend, hiding in the rocks over there?”

“Let’s give him a call, and ask him to join us,” suggested Billie, heartily.

But although they shouted many times, only dense silence answered them; whoever it was fired that mysterious shot, he evidently did not mean to make himself known.