in standing together. Back among the pines
through which they had come; well upon the ridge, and not ten miles
away, blazed an Indian signal fire. It was the Apache summons for a
quick "gathering of the clans."

Now God help the bairnies in the wagon!

CHAPTER II.

MANUELITO'S TREACHERY.

All this time Darkey Jim had been sleeping soundly, wrapped in his
blankets, with his feet to the fire. There was never an hour, day or
night, when this lively African could not loll at full length, in
sunshine or shade, and forget his cares, if cares he ever had, in less
than three minutes. In this case, despite Sieber's warning, which he had
overheard, he simply took note of the fact that the captain and Corporal
Pike were looking after things and that was enough for him. There was no
use in worrying when "Marsa Gwin" was on guard, and within an hour from
the time he had had his substantial supper, Jim was snoring melodiously,
with his head buried in his arms.

Manuelito was thoroughly aware of this trait of his "stable-mate," else
he had not dared to bring the captain's horse so close to the fire. Now
his fierce, half Indian face seemed full of perplexity and dread. The
Apache signal fire still glowed among the black pines away to the
westward. The captain and Corporal Pike were hurriedly coming towards
him through the stunted trees,--yet here he stood with "Gregg," all
irresolute, all fearful what to do. Back towards those black pines and
the long reach of road beyond he dare not go. The Tontos held the line
of retreat. Here in camp he hardly dare remain for the keen cut in
"Gregg's" side line showed plainly that the knife had been used, and
left him accused of treachery. Out of the fire light and back to the
grazing ground he must get the horse at once--but what then? Noiselessly
turning, he led Gregg, wondering, back to the glade in which the other
horses were tethered, and quickly drove his picket pin and put him on
the half lariat. But how was he to conceal the severed side line? Off it
came, both nervous hands working rapidly, and then when he had about
determined to cut off the lines of one of Jim's mules and so throw
suspicion on him, his African mate, he was aware of his captain striding
through the trees toward him. He could almost have run away. But the
next words re-assured him.

"That you, Manuelito?" challenged Captain Gwynne in low, hoarse tones.
"All right! Take the side lines off Gregg and saddle him