“There may be a party of Indians camping on my trail and this is to let them know where they will find me. Perhaps it tells them they needn’t bother, for those in front have fixed things so as to gather me in; or possibly――but what’s the use?” he demanded impatiently, realizing that it was worse than useless to launch out upon such a sea of speculation. The pony showed a wish to resume his gallop, even though the incline continued, but his rider would not permit. “I may be wrong,” he reflected, “but I’m too merciful――” To his amazement, Dick at that moment suddenly came to a full stop. Not only that, but he threw up his head, thrust his ears forward and snorted. He had made some alarming discovery. What could it be? The startled Alden glanced ahead. The rocks and boulders still cut off his view, and he could not see clearly for a hundred yards in any direction. The signs of alarm on the part of the pony increased. He snorted louder and began backing, showing an inclination to whirl about and dash off. Alden patted his neck and spoke soothingly, but could not quiet him. “He knows a good deal more than I do,” said the youth to himself. Then, yielding to an impulse natural in the circumstances, Alden deftly slipped from the saddle and ran a few paces to the nearest rock behind which he crouched. The pony thus relieved of his burden, swung around as if on a pivot and dashed toward the plateau. “He scented a party of Indians; they will be here in a minute or two. Heavens! how came I to overlook it?” The exclamation was caused by the discovery that after firing at the dusky archer in the ravine, he had neglected to reload his rifle, a piece of forgetfulness for which Shagbark never would have forgiven him. Alden drew a bullet from his pouch with which to repair the blunder, and then when he tried to force it down the muzzle, he made a terrifying discovery. He had failed to take the pouch from the body of Dick Lightfoot. His own bullets were too large for the bore of the smaller weapon, which was of no more use to him than a stick of wood! CHAPTER XV NOW FOR THE MAIL STATION No wonder Alden Payne was rattled. Who wouldn’t be thrown into a panic by the discovery of his helplessness in so dangerous a situation? Moreover, Dick Lightfoot’s revolver was with his body. Still the youth had his own small weapon which he carried at his hip, where he could draw it the instant needed. Besides this he had his hunting knife, which would be of little help in the circumstances. He might do something in the way of defense with his pistol, but of what avail against a party of Indians armed with rifles, or possibly bows and arrows? All they would have to do would be to remain beyond his range and “snipe” him at their leisure.