As Tom spoke, he pointed to the west, in among the mountains, and in a direction at right angles to what he was pursuing himself. "Our road twists round a little," he added, "and when we get to where we left the animals, we'll be 'bout as far away from the Apaches as we are now. What's better, there's some mighty rough travelin' between us and them, such as no hosses can git over." "But Indians can, can't they?" "I rather guess so. What's the matter, my boy?" asked Tom, looking down upon him as they picked along. "You're talkin' as if you was thinkin' 'bout Injuns all the time." "That's what I've had to do for the last three or four days. Lone Wolf managed to get away from you, and where do you think he is? What do you think he means to do?" As the boy asked this question, he glanced around in such a timid, apprehensive way, that his companions laughed. It was natural that the lad should have these misgivings, especially as it seemed to him that his friends were using no precautions at all to prevent a treacherous surprise upon the part of the Apaches. To relieve his fears, they convinced him that they were on the alert, and did not fail to note everything. They expected, in the natural course of events, that Lone Wolf would make all haste back to camp, and take every means of revenging himself and securing possession of the boy again. Indeed, this was all he could do. He had no rifle with which to fire a stealthy shot at them, and it was necessary that he should first return to his warriors before striking a blow. To do all this required time sufficient to permit the three to reach the gorge, mount their animals, and get fairly under way before he and his warriors could possibly put in an appearance. Tom and Dick, therefore, could not be accused of undue recklessness in taking matters in such a leisurely fashion. They assured their young friend still further that they were on the eastern margin of the prairie, and, after starting with their mustangs, had a clear, open course before them. It was somewhat past noon when they entered the ravine, which had already been described to Ned, and, while the latter remained to talk with Morris, Tom moved on further and down in a more secluded place, in quest of their mustangs, which had been left grazing upon the rich, succulent grass, beside a running stream of mountain water. All were in high spirits, and our hero was as buoyant and cheerful as the others, when they saw their friend returning empty-handed. "What's up?" asked Dick. "The Injuns have stole our mustangs!" "Sure?" "Yes--plenty of moccasin tracks--but not cussed sign of a single hoss," was the sour reply. CHAPTER XXII. ANXIOUS WAITING.