Another pair of eager ears caught not all, but enough of the plot that was being rehearsed that night in the shadow of the trees, to unravel the main thread of it. The old mountaineer, after a full hour of trying toil, had wormed his way within a few rods from the band, and there he lay, intent to catch every syllable of the rough English that Bud was using to instruct his followers. Flying Arrow interpreted the White Chief’s words into the Indian tongue to make sure they understood. The old mountaineer stayed long enough to get clear the plot--almost too long indeed; for one Indian, leaving the band to look after his horse, walked within a step of the hidden listener. For a moment he feared discovery; but the Redskin went his way and returned none the wiser. Seizing his opportunity, the trapper turned and crept away, inch by inch, out of his dangerous place. To Fred the time dragged into an age as he stood in the quiet darkness of the aspen grove. The moon had climbed high into the sky before the welcome sound of the soft returning step came. When it did, his tense feelings relaxed into sudden, half-painful relief. “Oh, I’m glad you’re safe!” “Quiet, boy,” responded Uncle Dave; “now, listen; they’ve planned a horse stealin’ raid. They’ll begin at Morgan’s ranch, then swing to the Bar B and on down the valley to the north. Jump on this horse and set out quiet but brisk to warn the settlers. Strike for Morgan’s first. They’ll git there long ’fore daybreak, I reckon. That won’t give the ranchers much time, but mebbe you kin gether enough agin they git there to scare ’em off. Here, swap weapons with me. That scatter gun o’ yours won’t be much use in an Injun fight.” “But you may need it,” objected Fred. “No, they’re not after me; I’ll be safe in my cabin. Now, go, and the Lord bless ye.” Fred grasped the rough hand and pressed it, then leaped on the horse. “Sh!” warned Uncle Dave, “they’re stirrin’. You’ll hev to move mighty cautious, but move.” At the word Fred started again, this time to wind his way carefully through the grove. He kept well within the shadow of the trees till the willowy way of the creek offered another stretch of hidden trail, which he threaded cautiously for half a mile or more, then he struck across the open flat, urging Old Buck to his utmost. Fear was swept aside. His only desire was to reach the ranch in time to upset the White Injun’s plot. The glad thought that he was doing signal service for the settlers and for Alta--service that might lift the cloud from his name--never crossed him. Old Buck, seeming to catch the feelings of his rider, rushed on; but his flying feet were too slow for Fred’s eager thoughts. The dark forms of the big stacks and sheds seemed miles away, but they neared at last, and finally he dashed up to them, leaped from his horse and ran to the door. His excitement was expressed in the hurried rap he gave.