The Apache that Fred fancied was so close upon him was, in reality, playing hide and seek with the Kiowas, a business which is generally conducted in silence, unless the stillness be broken by the occasional crack of the rifle, or the death-yell of one of the participants. The footsteps which the boy fancied he heard were all in his imagination. In fact, he was alone. No human eye saw him, or took cognizance of his movements. For the present he was left to himself. There was but One who held him in view and remembrance at this critical juncture. To Him Fred appealed again and again to lead him through the labyrinth of peril, and to permit him to return in safety to his friends. Still the boy picked his way along as does the frightened animal, and still he failed to see or hear anything of his enemy. Meanwhile the gloom deepened, and with the passage of every moment his heart lightened, until he felt that for the time being, at least, his safety was assured. CHAPTER XVI. THE RECONNOISSANCE It was a mystery to young Munson why the shots fired, as he supposed, by the Apaches, should have checked his pursuer, who was so close upon him. Had he known that they came from a couple of hostile Kiowas, and that they were intended for the warrior whose hand was outstretched to grasp him, the matter would not have been so hard to understand. But he saw the night closing in about him, while he remained among the rocks, moving forward in the same stealthy manner, upon his hands and knees, and his strained ear failed to catch the slightest sound that could make him fear that any of his enemies were near at hand. Of course he looked with all the eyes at his command, but they also stared upon a blank, so far as animated creation was concerned. At last Fred halted, tired out with this species of locomotion. “I do believe I've given them the slip,” he exclaimed, his heart throbbing more than ever with renewed hope. “I don't exactly understand how it was done, but I thank the Lord all the more for it.” He now arose to his feet and reconnoitered his own position. So far as he could judge, he was fully two hundred yards away from and above the ravine where he had made this successful attempt at escape. The day was so far gone by this time that he could barely discern the open space which led through the mountain. His view on the left was shut off by the angle to which reference has been made, and on the right the gathering obscurity ended the field of vision. As soon as he was able to locate the gorge, his eyes roamed up and down in quest of those from whom he was fleeing. Not a glimpse could be obtained. It was as if he had penetrated for the first time a solitude never before trodden by the foot of man. Satisfied of this pleasant fact, he then made search for the smoke of the campfire which was the real cause of his escape.