time in silence, watching them. The trapper had
flitted near me, so that he could see out and talk in whispers.

I was still apprehensive that the savages might search the cave.

"'Tain't likely," said my companion. "They mout ef thur hadn't 'a been
so many o' these diggins, do 'ee see? Thur's a grist o' 'em--more'n a
hundred--on t'other side; an' most o' the men who got clur tuk furrer
down. It's my notion the Injuns seed that, an' won't disturb--Ef thur
ain't that dog!"

I well understood the meaning of the emphasis with which these last
words were repeated. My eyes, simultaneously with those of the speaker,
had fallen upon the dog Alp. He was running about in front of the cave.
I saw at a glance he was searching for me.

The next moment he had struck the trail where I had crawled through the
cacti, and came running down in the direction of the cave.

On reaching the body of the Canadian, which lay directly in his track,
he stopped for a moment and appeared to examine it. Then, uttering a
short yelp, he passed on to that of the doctor, where he made a similar
demonstration. He ran several times from one to the other, but at
length left them; and, with his nose once more to the ground,
disappeared out of our view.

His strange actions had attracted the attention of the savages, who, one
and all, stood watching him.

My companion and I were beginning to hope that he had lost me, when, to
our dismay, he appeared a second time, coming down the trail as before.
This time he leaped over the bodies, and the next moment sprang into the
mouth of the cave.

A yell from without told us that we were lost.

We endeavoured to drive the dog out again, and succeeded, Rube having
wounded him with his knife; but the wound itself, and the behaviour of
the animal outside, convinced our enemies that someone was within the
shaft.

In a few seconds the entrance was darkened by a crowd of savages,
shouting and yelling.

"Now show yur shootin', young fellur!" said my companion. "It's the new
kind o' pistol 'ee hev got. Load every ber'l o' it."

"Shall I have time to load them?"

"Plenty o' time. They ain't a-gwine to come in 'ithout a light. Thur
gone for a torch to the shanty. Quick wi' yur! Slap in the fodder!"

Without waiting to reply, I caught hold of my flask, and loaded the
remaining five chambers of the revolver. I had scarcely finished when
one of the Indians appeared in front with a flaming brand, and