Curiously enough, he carried no gun with him, and, as the boy still retained possession of Lone Wolf's, it seemed to young Chadmund that he could want no better opportunity of wiping out one of those pestilent redskins. With this purpose in view he cautiously shoved the end of the weapon through the bushes and aimed at the back of the warrior, who, at that moment, could not have been more than a dozen yards from him. There could be no mistaking a target so conspicuous and so close at hand; but when the aim was sure and Ned's finger was pressing the trigger, he restrained himself by the self-imposed question whether it was right to pick off a foe, savage though he was, in that fashion. He was well aware that no mercy would have been shown him had the position been reversed; still, he could not justify in his own mind an act that looked so much like murder. "No," said he, when this inward conflict had continued a minute or so. "I s'pose Tom and Dick would laugh at me if they knew how I acted: but I don't believe father would like to have me fight that way. Anyhow, my conscience don't, so I won't." CHAPTER XXIII. THE DEATH SHOT. It took Ned about a minute to reach his merciful conclusion and to lower the hammer of his gun. This done, he looked out to see how the Indian was getting along. To his amazement nothing was seen of him. He had vanished as suddenly as if the ground had opened and swallowed him up. Wondering what it all could mean, the boy rose to his feet, and peered out, parting the bushes still more and advancing a little from his concealment. The ground was quite level, covered here and there with boulders and a scrubby undergrowth, but there was nothing to be seen of the warrior. During the second or two occupied in lowering the hammer of his rifle, the Apache had disappeared, flashing out, so to speak, into nothingness. "That's mighty queer," reflected Ned, as he resumed his seat under the bushes. "I know those redskins are pretty lively, but I didn't think they could get up and leave as fast as that." There was something in the manner of this thing which alarmed him. The Apache, when last seen, was advancing carefully in the direction taken by the scouts. Why this sudden diversion? What did it mean but that the redskin had made an important discovery, and what could that discovery be but that he was threatened by danger from the rear? Such being the case, it followed that the peril had been transferred from one to the other. Instead of the lad threatening the Indian it was _vice versa_. "I bet he'll be back here," was the conclusion of our hero, as he once more raised the hammer of his gun. "He must have heard me when I moved the bushes, and he'll be trying some of his tricks upon me."