Being left entirely to himself, the boy now devoted himself to the
somewhat dismal task of keeping watch, an occupation that cannot be
classed as the most cheerful in which a man may engage. The excitement
and apprehension that marked the first two or three hours prevented the
time from hanging too heavily upon his hands, but as the night stole
along and nothing was heard or seen to cause alarm, the fear grew
less and less, until, like a boy, he began to suspect that all these
precautions were useless.
For the twentieth time he stood up and listened. The soft, musical
murmur of the Rio Pecos was heard, as it flowed by on his right, and
now and then the gentlest possible breath of night-wind disturbed the
branches overhead; but nothing else caught his notice. To prevent
the feeling of utter loneliness from gaining possession of him, Fred
occasionally emitted a low, soft, tremulous whistle, which was instantly
responded to from the direction of Mickey. It was the old familiar
signal which they had used many a time when off on their little hunting
expeditions, and either, hearing it, could not mistake its source. But
this grew wearisome at last, and he leaned back against a tree, looking
out upon the moonlit valley beyond, where nothing as yet had caught
his eye that looked in the least suspicious, and where everything still
appeared as silent as a graveyard.
“I don't believe there are any Indians within fifty miles,” he muttered,
impatiently; “and yet we must have three or four men on the look-out
till morning. Well, I s'pose it's the only safe thing to do, and I'm
bound to stick it out till one o'clock. It must be near midnight now,
and if Mickey should come around here, an hour from now, and find me
asleep, I never would hear the last of it.”
He felt very much like sitting down upon the ground, but he knew if he
did that he would be sure to fall asleep, while, as long as he kept
his feet, he was sure to retain his senses. When disposed to become too
drowsy, a sudden giving away at the knees recalled him so vigorously,
that it was a considerable time before the drowsiness crept over him
again.
Thus the night advanced, until all at once, Fred aroused himself as if a
sharp pin had been thrust in him.
“By George! I heard something then!” he exclaimed, in an excited
undertone, looking sharply about him; “but I don't know where it came
from.”
His impression was that it came from some point directly before him
out on the open space; but the most rigid scrutiny failed to reveal the
cause. There was the level stretch of grass, unbroken by stone or shrub,
but nothing that could be tortured into the remotest resemblance to a
human figure.
“It can't be there,” he muttered; “or if it was, it do n't amount--”
His senses were aroused to the highest pitch, and he was all attention.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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