"I warned the cap, when he hired that Comanche, that we would have trouble with him. We left Texas a little short-handed, but we could have got through well enough without him. Howsumever, Shackaye, as you remember, rode into camp one day and asked the cap to give him a job, and the cap done it." "I recall your words about him, and I thought they were not justified; but what made you so suspicious?" The Texan uttered an impatient exclamation. "In the first place he's an Injin, and _that_ ought to be enough. I never seen one of his race that it's safe to trust; they'll shoot the man that gives them a cup of water or a piece of bread. Talk about Injin gratitude! There aint any such thing." "What did my uncle say to your sentiments?" "He laughed in that quiet way of his, and said maybe as I was right, but he didn't see what we had to fear from one Injin that was in camp with us; he reckoned we could pull his teeth before he could bite enough to hurt." "I am sure he will think differently when he hears my story." "Don't tell him or anyone else a word about it. Promise me that." "And why?" asked the surprised Avon. "Well," was the hesitating answer, "I've several reasons: one of them is that though you and me have fixed on the Comanche as the chap, we aint sure of it. It looks very much that way, but it may be someone else after all. We mustn't make any mistake, and above all, don't let Shackaye think we suspect him." The youth gave his promise, though in his mind there was no doubt of the identity of the man that had come so near shooting him from his mustang. He saw the wisdom of not allowing Shackaye to know that he was suspected. The cattle having been located, the couple had little to do but to hold them where they were. This proved less difficult than at other times. They had the help of Burrell, or Old Bronze, in the work, and the three did little but ride back and forth, timing their course in such a way that they skirted the large body of animals, often meeting and exchanging greetings, but more often passing without seeming to see each other. Sometimes one of the cattle would show a determination to dash away from the main body, but before he went far, a horseman was in front of him and he was forced back. The night was too chilly for sleeping, else one or more of the herders would have stretched out on the damp earth, with his bridle reins so interlocked with his arm that his horse could not wander off, or he would have fallen asleep in his saddle. When worn out with fatigue and loss of slumber, a cowboy often rides for miles totally unconscious of what is going on around him. CHAPTER XXVIII. A MISHAP. The weather cleared toward morning, and the sun rose without a cloud obscuring its face. The halt had been made along a small tributary of the Wichita, whose upper waters flow through the country of the Kiowas, Comanches, and Apaches, that of the Cheyennes and Arapahoes lying further north.