He was approaching a bend in the arroyo, and this yelp, which was clearly a signal, caused him to approach the bend with more than usual caution. This was well for him; since presently, from behind a shoulder of rock, he was able to peer out and see a mounted Apache, waiting for another who was riding down the arroyo’s bank. The Indian Cayuse had been following had a bow and quiver slung at his back. The bow was still bent, showing that the Apache had not yet taken the time to unstring it. Aside from the bow and arrows, both Apaches were likewise armed with rifles. They met in the arroyo’s bottom, exchanged a few words, and started on again. They looked behind them carefully, but they did not see Cayuse. At that moment the boy was busily engaged laying his quartz pieces on the ground, not only showing his course, but informing any one who might follow that the first Apache had been joined by another. The Apaches rode at a leisurely gait on into the gulchlike gash into which the arroyo presently changed. At the place where the gulch forked the two halted and one of them repeated his wolf-yelp. A little later the rocky walls reechoed with galloping hoofs, and three more Apaches showed themselves, and joined the other two. The entire party then turned into the right-hand branch of the defile. Cayuse continued to follow, noiselessly, swiftly, screening his passage with all the cunning of a coyote. The gloom thickened in the bottom of the gulch. He was glad of it, for it made his trailing easier. The Apaches talked and laughed as they journeyed, entirely oblivious of the fact that a hated Piute was hanging upon their trail. All might have gone well with the boy had he noticed a figure on the top of the gulch wall, looking down. It was the figure of a white man, and the white man had under his eyes both the forms of the mounted Apaches and the trailing Piute. The man stared for a space, then drew back. Little Cayuse wondered why, when the Apaches arrived opposite the narrow defile that entered the wall of the gulch, they ceased their talking and laughing and came to an abrupt halt. Of course he could not hear the low voice of the white man, calling from within the lateral defile. One of the Apaches, leaving the rest, spurred into the smaller gash. And again it was impossible for Cayuse to see that the white man had appeared and beckoned to the Apache. “Fools!” said the white man to the Apache, partly in Spanish and partly with the hand-talk; “don’t you know that you are being trailed by the little Piute, Buffalo Bill’s pard? He is behind you, in the gulch. He must be captured, and this is the way you are to do it: “You will ride back to the rest of the Apaches. Then, taking care not to turn and look down the gulch, you will all ride into this cut. When well within the cut, four of you will dismount and hide behind the boulders; the other one will ride forward, leading the four horses, and get beyond that turn.