On the other side stood the females, clinging and huddling together. They could not understand the mutinous language, but they saw threatening attitudes and angry faces. They saw knives drawn, and heard the cocking of guns and pistols. They knew there was danger, and they crouched together, whimpering with fear. Up to this moment Seguin had stood giving directions for the mounting of his captives. His manner was strangely abstracted, as it had been ever since the scene of meeting with his daughter. That greater care, gnawing at his heart, seemed to render him insensible to what was passing. He was not so. As Kirker ended (for he was the last speaker) a change came over Sequin's manner, quick as a flash of lightning. Suddenly rousing himself from his attitude of indifference, he stepped forward in front of the mutineers. "Dare!" shouted he, in a voice of thunder, "dare to dishonour your oaths! By heavens! the first man who raises knife or rifle shall die on the instant!" There was a pause, and a moment of deep silence. "I had made a vow," continued he, "that should it please God to restore me my child, this hand should be stained with no more blood. Let any man force me to break that vow, and, by Heaven, his blood shall be the first to stain it!" A vengeful murmur ran through the crowd, but no one replied. "You are but a cowardly brute, with all your bluster," he continued, turning round to Kirker, and looking him in the eye. "Up with that knife! quick! or I will send this bullet through your ruffian heart!" Seguin had drawn his pistol, and stood in an attitude that told he would execute the threat. His form seemed to have grown larger; his eye dilated, flashing as it rolled, and the man shrank before its glance. He saw death in it if he disobeyed, and with a surly murmur he fumbled mechanically at his belt, and thrust the blade back into its sheath. But the mutiny was not yet quelled. These were men not so easily conquered. Fierce exclamations still continued, and the mutineers again began to encourage one another with shouts. I had thrown myself alongside the chief, with my revolvers cocked and ready, resolved to stand by him to the death. Several others had done the same, among whom were Rube, Garey, Sanchez the bull-fighter, and the Maricopa. The opposing parties were nearly equal, and a fearful conflict would have followed had we fought; but at this moment an object appeared that stifled the resentment of all. It was the common enemy! Away on the western border of the valley we could see dark objects, hundreds of them, coming over the plain. They were still at a great distance, but the practised eyes of the hunters knew them at a glance. They were horsemen; they were Indians; they were our pursuers, the Navajoes! They were riding at full gallop, and strung over the prairie like hounds upon a run. In a twinkling they would be on us.