Now he was flung, limp and dazed, aboard a pony, his captor mounted into the saddle behind him, and away they tore, while the brush beneath reeled by under Jimmie’s swimming eyes. This was a fast ride until the sheep were overtaken. There they were, almost the whole flock, being forced hotly onward by Apaches afoot and ahorse, with other Apaches guarding the flanks. It looked like a war party returning with plunder from Mexico. The bands about the foreheads, the round rawhide helmets that some wore, the thigh moccasins, the guns, bows, lances and clubs, proved that they were a war party; and they had a lot of loose horses and mules besides the Pete Kitchen sheep. Jimmie sighted another captive――a Mexican boy, older than he, fastened upon a yellow mule led by an Apache horseman. A broad-shouldered, finely built Indian wearing an Apache helmet with feathers sticking up from it, and riding a white horse, evidently was the chief in command. The grip of the Apache who held Jimmie had slackened. Jimmie managed to squirm ’round enough to look up into the Apache’s face. In return he got a grin, and two or three Apache words that said: “Good boy. No fear.” These were common words with the “tame” Apaches who sometimes came into Camp Grant or to Joe Felmer’s little ranch near by, so Jimmie understood. The country grew rougher and wilder and higher. By the sun Jimmie knew that the course was generally eastward, and he guessed that these were Chiricahua Apaches. The Apache Indians, as almost anybody in Arizona could say off-hand, were divided into the Chiricahuas and the Pinals and the Arivaipas and the Coyotes and the White Mountains and the Apache-Mohaves and the Apache-Yumas and the Tontos and the Mogollons, and the Warm Spring Apaches and the Mimbres (of New Mexico), and the Jicarillas (Heek-ah-ree-yahs) or Basket Apaches, who never came into Arizona; and so forth. The Tontos and Pinals, who were outlaws, and the Chiricahuas (Chee-ree-cah-wahs), who were hard, thorough fighters, seemed to give the most trouble. The Chiricahuas lived in the mountains of southern Arizona and of northern Mexico. The pines and cedars of the higher country were reached before dusk. Not a tenth of the sheep had come this far. The most of them had been left to die from heat and exhaustion. Now having passed through another of their favorite narrow canyons, the Apaches halted, at dark, to camp beside a trickle of water in a rocky little basin surrounded by crags and timber. This night Jimmie was forced to lie between two Apache warriors, the one who had captured him, and a comrade; and he fitted so closely that if he moved he would waken them. It was an uncomfortable bed, there under a thin dirty strip of blanket, limited by those greasy, warm bodies, and he was afraid to stir. But he was so tired that he slept, anyway.