Some of the sunbeams entered the thick jungle of forest where they lay, touching the leaves and grass here and there with gold, but in most places the shadows still hovered. Phil and Breakstone looked at their surroundings. They had left no trail in coming there, and the bushes about them were so dense that even Indian eyes ten feet away could not have seen them. The sunlight was deepening. Birds in the trees began to sing. All the beings of the wilderness, little and big, awoke to life. Trees and grass dried swiftly under the strong fresh wind. Bill Breakstone glanced at his youthful comrade. "Phil," he said, "I’ll take the rifle, and you go to sleep. You’ve had a harder time than I have, and, when you wake up, I’ll tell you how I was captured." "I think I’ll do it, Bill," said the boy, putting his. arm under his head and closing his eyes. The strain was gone from his nerves now, and sleep came readily. In three minutes he was oblivious of Comanches and all else that the world contained. Bill Breakstone could have slept if he had tried, but he did not try. Under a manner nearly always light and apparently superficial he concealed a strong nature and much depth of feeling. It seemed to him that at the last moment a hand had been stretched out to save him from the worst of fates. It seemed to him, also, that it must have been a sort of inspiration, the direction of a supreme will, for Phil to have come to him at such a time. It was a brave deed, a wonderful deed, and it had been brilliantly successful. The light was strong, and Bill Breakstone looked down at the boy who was a younger brother to him now. He saw that the strain upon Phil had been great. Even while he slept his face was very white, except where fatigue and suspense had painted it black beneath the eyes. Phil Bedford had done more than his share, and it was now for him, Bill Breakstone, to do the rest. He slipped the muzzle of the rifle forward in order that it might command the mouth of the hollow, and waited. He would have pulled more leaves and brush before the entrance, but he knew that any disturbance of nature would attract the eye of a passing Comanche, and he allowed everything to remain exactly as it had been. He lay comfortably among the leaves, and for a long time he did not stir. Phil breathed regularly and easily, and Bill saw that he would be fully restored when he awoke. Bill himself thought neither of hunger nor thirst, the tension was too great for that, but he never ceased to watch the sweep of trees and brush. It was half way toward noon when he saw some bushes about ten yards in front of him trembling slightly. He became at once alert and suspicious. He drew himself up in the attitude of one who is ready for instant action, slipping the muzzle of the rifle a little farther forward.