He noted, too, the sounds of the mustang's hoofs growing fainter and fainter, until the strained ears could detect them no longer. Tom Hardynge had safely passed through the Apache lines. It was a daring and desperate feat indeed, but it had succeeded to perfection. Nothing now remained to hinder his flight direct to Fort Havens. "I rather think somebody's mad," exulted Dick, who was fully as proud over the exploit of his comrade as was Tom himself. "There ain't much doubt but what there'll be lively times here before long. They know there's only two of us, counting in the little chap, and they'll make a rush. Let 'em do it. If they can get up by that corner where the other fellow dropped they're welcome, that's all." And with this conclusion he left the top of the hill and picked his way down the path, until he reached the spot where he had parted from his comrade. Here he stooped down with the purpose of picking up the body of the warrior and flinging it down upon the heads of those below. To his astonishment, it was gone! He searched around for several minutes, venturing to descend some distance, but it was missing. "I don't think he could have got up and walked away," said the hunter, as he scratched his head over the occurrence. "No, it couldn't have been that, for Tom don't strike any such blows any more than I do." It followed, then, as a matter of course, that after the discovery of the trick, some brother Apache had stolen his way up the path and removed the body, a proceeding which Dick Morris hardly suspected until he was really compelled to believe it. "If I'd only knowed he was coming," he growled, "how I would have lammed him; but he's come and gone, and there ain't any use in cryin' over it." He waited and listened carefully, and once or twice a slight rattling of the gravel caused him to suspect that some of the redskins were attempting to steal upon him; but if such were the case, they must have contented themselves by not approaching within striking distance. Finally the night wore away, and the dull light of morning began stealing over the prairie. As soon as objects could be distinguished, he returned to his position upon the top of the rock and made his observations. Little, if any, change was discernible in the disposition of the besieging Indians. Their horses were gathered at some distance, where the grass was quite rank. The warriors had assumed all the indolent attitudes which are seen in a body of men that have more time at their disposal than they know what to do with. They had shifted their position so far back that they were beyond good rifle range; for although a hunter like Dick Morris could have picked off a redskin nine times out of ten, yet he could not "pick his man." Lone Wolf had attired himself precisely as were the rest of his warriors, and at the distance it was impossible to distinguish him from them, so the scout wisely concluded to hold his fire until he could be certain of his target.