"I wish I could," he said, "but it's no use trying. They've got a good many old scores against the varmints, and this one coming atop--Wal!" "Then it's going to be a race," said the lieutenant, with decision; and he bade his men quicken their double, in the faint hope of their being able to outrun the trappers. But, as things turned out, the difficulty was removed from his hands. For some few minutes he had noticed a thick mass of moving figures across the plain some distance farther to the left than the point for which the Indians were making. At first he had taken them for cattle; but, on closer inspection, he saw that they were mounted men. He pointed them out to Mason, who was now twenty yards behind. "Yes; I see 'em," he shouted. "It's a battle; Comanches and Apaches, I count." In the sailors' excitement they almost forgot the objects of their pursuit, though these were again showing unmistakable signs of breaking down. "Now, lads; one good spurt and we'll be within range," said Wise. "Never mind about what's going on over there." But it was not in human nature not to watch what could be seen of the combat; Wise himself could not resist the temptation; one side was already taking flight, shooting at their pursuers as they went; and the two forces formed, with Wise's men, two converging lines which would very soon meet. "The Apaches have had enough; they're making for the mountains, and this here other lot of reptiles'll get away on the first horses they can come near," shouted Mason from behind. In a few minutes the first of the Indian forces was only half a mile away from the sailors' line of march. No doubt they had come to the hopeless stage in Indian warfare; the stage at which all arrows or bullets have been shot away and it is a question either of close fighting--for which they have neither strength nor stomach--or of flight. But, strangely enough, the Indians on foot made no attempt to join their brethren; instead, they wheeled more than ever to the right. For the next few minutes, things were little more than a confused blur to Wise; the dust was flying; he scarcely knew one party from the other; he was bewildered by the yelling of both, and by the lightning speed at which pursued and pursuers moved; in fact, he knew nothing definitely till a shout of triumph arose from the trappers behind. "_Got 'em!_" The Comanches, abandoning the hope of overtaking their enemy, had wheeled suddenly, and closed round the twelve scattering Apaches who were on foot. "Guess it's out of our hands now, anyway," said Wise to the boatswain. Just then two of the Comanches turned their horses and cantered up to the sailors; at the same time the trappers joined them from behind, impelled by curiosity; and Wise heard old Mason talking with one of the men who had entered the camp the night before. "He says, does the young white chief--that's _you_, gov'nor--want them Mexicans? If not, they calculate _they_ can find a use for 'em."