Having now no need of the dummy that had stood him so well for the time, Tom did not hesitate to throw him overboard as a useless incumbrance, and, thus relieved of the dead weight, he sped forward with wonderful speed. In a short time after that the redskins had vanished from view, and almost any one would have supposed that the danger was passed; but Tom was well aware that it was only a temporary lull in the storm. The Apaches were like bloodhounds, who, having once taken the trail of their prey, would relax no effort so long as there was a chance of capturing him, and so he abated not a jot of his tremendous exertions. CHAPTER III. PURSUED BY THE APACHES. As stealthily as a phantom did the canoe bearing the scout skim along the shore of the Gila, hugging the banks as closely as possible, so as to take advantage of the ribbon of shadow which followed the winding of the stream. The moon was creeping higher up the sky, and this advantage would soon be denied the fugitive altogether, so every minute was improved to the utmost. Now and then Tom ceased paddling, and as the boat shot forward with undiminished speed, bent his head and listened. This was continued until he had passed fully a quarter of a mile, when he rested for a longer time than usual. "I guess they'll have to give it up," he said to himself, with a peculiar chuckle. "They ketched me in a bad box, that's sartin, where I couldn't climb out on either side. But things are a little better here," he added, as he looked from side to side at the bluffs, which were so low that the tops could be easily reached from his boat. "I don't much want to tramp over-land, but if it is necessary I've got somethin' of a chance, which isn't what I had before." He might well prefer the water to the land; for on the former, whether he went fast or slow, there was no trail left for the keenest bloodhound to follow; on the latter it was impossible to conceal his most cautious footsteps from the eyes of the redskins. The surface of this portion of Arizona was of such a nature that everything was against the hunter. There was no wood nor tributary streams for miles. If he left the Gila, and struck across the country, it would be over an open plain, where he could be seen for miles. He would be on foot, while his enemies would all be mounted on their fleet mustangs. How, then, could he elude them by leaving his boat? His only hope was in traveling at night, but night must always be followed by day. "I wonder what ideas will creep into their skulls," he muttered, reflecting upon the view the Apaches had gained of him a short time before from the bank. "A dead Injun is a good deal better than a live one, as that 'ere critter proved to me. If I hadn't fired back agin, they might have thought I was one of their own warriors--mebbe they'll think so now. Great Scott!"