tempt to draw them farther and farther away from
the tent; because the groans seemed to come from the one spot, instead
of gradually moving off in a tempting manner.

"Here he is, Bob!" he said, presently; and the other, looking, saw a
huddled-up figure lying upon the ground in the midst of the low buffalo
berry bushes.

Immediately they were bending over the form, which had moved at their
approach.

"Why, it's an Indian, Frank!" cried Bob, in surprise.

"Yes, and unless I miss my guess, a Moqui Indian at that," Frank
replied. "Three of them wandered down our way once, and gave us some
interesting exhibitions of their customs. You know their home is up to
the north. They are said to be the descendants of the old cliff dwellers
who made all those holes high up in the rocks, to keep out of the reach
of enemies."

He was bending down over the other even while saying this; and feeling
to see if the Indian could have been wounded in any way.

"What seems to be the matter with him, Frank?" asked Bob, when this
thing had been going on for a full minute, the stricken man grunting,
and Frank appearing to continue his investigations.

"I tell you what," Frank remarked, presently; "I honestly believe he's
been kicked by the heels of my sassy little Buckskin; perhaps he's badly
hurt; and then again, he may only have had the wind knocked out of him.
That horse is as bad as any mule you ever saw, when it comes to planting
his heels."

"But what was he prowling around the camp for?" asked Bob, who had a
hazy idea concerning the red men of the West, gained perhaps from early
reading of the attacks on the wagon trains of the pioneers of the
prairie.

"Oh! these Moqui Indians wouldn't do a white man any harm, unless they
happened to take too much juice of the agave plant, in the shape of
mescal," Frank hastened to say; "and I don't seem to get the smell of
that stuff. So the chances are that he had something of an eye to our
horses."

"And as he didn't know about Buckskin's ways he gave the little pony a
chance to get in some dents. But he may be badly hurt, Frank," Bob went
on, his natural kindness of heart cropping up above any feeling of
animosity he might have experienced.

"I suppose, then, we'll just have to tote the beggar to the tent, and
start up that fire again, while we look him over. If those hind feet
came slap against his ribs, the chances are we'll find a few of them
broken."

Swinging their rifles into on