as he paused by the
group of smokers and looked inquiringly at them.

But if any of them understood the words uttered, they did not choose to
give the information sought, and smoked away as placidly as if seated
around their own firesides at home.

Just beyond were two other warriors engaged in conversation, and Ned was
sure he had heard one of them speak in broken English during the earlier
part of the evening. Hoping to gain the knowledge he desired, he went to
him.

"Where is Lone Wolf, the chief?"

"He go way--much time ago--off in the mountains."

"When will he come back?"

The redskin shook his head to signify that he did not know; but added,
the next minute:

"Be back to-morrer--mebbe--don't know--can't say."

This rather indefinite information was all that could be obtained by the
lad, who was in a shiver of terror; for he believed now that his life
was not safe for a single moment.

CHAPTER XII.

"THE HOUR HAS COME."

Ned Chadmund was too terrified to think of further sleep, nor did he
dare to return to where he had been lying upon the blanket when aroused
in such a startling manner. As he turned his horrified gaze in that
direction, he saw the two combatants clutching and striking each other
upon the ground, their blows growing feebler as their strength rapidly
departed. The most alarming thing about this revolting contest was the
fact that it did not attract the interest of a single spectator beyond
the little fellow. There were plenty of Indians around, some of whom
were within a dozen feet, and yet they paid no more attention to it than
if the two were quietly smoking their pipes.

This showed, as a matter of course, the indifference of the others as to
what befell the defenseless prisoner. The next Indian who advanced upon
him with drawn knife would not be so likely to find himself disputed by
another, anxious to perform the same job. It seemed certain that no one
would interfere in the interests of the prisoner himself.

The latter stood debating what he should do, if, indeed, he could do
anything at all. He turned his head and looked back in the gloom, which
appeared so inviting that he was tempted to turn and make a dash for
freedom. If he could only secure a start of a hundred yards, it seemed
to him that he might escape. That would give him a chance to steal away
and hide until he could renew his flight, with a prospect of eluding
them altogether. He glanced at the darkness a