Colonel Chadmund understood Indian warfare so well as to know that Lone Wolf had his scouts out, and it would be a difficult matter to avoid them. Still the attempt was made, and by the middle of the afternoon, the cavalry had reached a point barely two miles away without his presence being suspected. "I've been watching the place for half an hour," said the colonel, as he lowered his glass, and handed it to Tom Hardynge, standing at his elbow, "and it seems to me that the top of Hurricane Hill is deserted, although the Apaches at the base seem to point the other way." "Of course, of course," replied the hunter, impatiently. "You don't 'spose they'd stand up in sight all the time, like a couple of spoonies gettin' their pictures took? They're watchin' the path that leads up to where they be." It required but a few minutes to conclude their preparations, when the seventy odd cavalrymen, armed to the teeth, burst forth from the hills like a mountain torrent, and charged straight for Lone Wolf and his band. The latter, of course, were quick to detect it, and drew up with the purpose of making a fight; but when they took in the strength of the company approaching, they changed their minds, and broke and scattered like chaff before the whirlwind. This was a severe disappointment, for the colonel and a dozen of his best Indian fighters had arranged to make a determined effort to rid the country of this pest. These were the best mounted in the company, and in their eagerness they sped straight ahead after the redskins, still hoping that some turn of fortune's wheel would give them the coveted chance. But the mustangs of the Apaches were fresh and fleet, and they had no purpose of meeting the United States cavalry where there was anything like an equal advantage; so they continued their flight with such persistent celerity that they soon vanished from view. The heart of Colonel Chadmund misgave him as he galloped toward Hurricane Hill and saw no sign of life there. But while he was alternating between hope and despair, the figure of a man appeared around the corner of the rock, and then the form of a little boy was discerned, as he came running across the prairie with out-stretched arms. "Oh, father! father!" Colonel Chadmund leaped from the back of his horse and ran to meet him. "My darling boy! God be thanked!" The stern old soldier wept like a child as he caught him in his arms and hugged him to his breast, while more than one rough soldier, looking on, dashed the tears from his eyes and tried to look as if he were thinking of something else. The danger was passed. Little Ned, carried in triumph to the fort, remained the appointed time with his father at this advanced frontier post, and when he returned to Santa Fe to his beloved mother it was with an escort which guaranteed his safety.