against the sides of the
vehicle, leaving a clear space in which there was abundant room for Kate
and the children to lie at full length and sleep in comfort, and this
was their tent and sleeping apartment. The captain and his party slept
as we always used to sleep when scouting in the dry season in Arizona,
without shelter of any kind, in the open air.

Presently the little fellow re-appeared at the aperture.

"Here it is, Pike," he whispered. "But you'll have to open the door to
get it out."

Pike turned the handle, took the "binocular," gave Ned a jovial nod and
another shake of the hand, closed the door and strode away signalling
Jim to follow him. When they were out of earshot of the ambulance he
turned:

"Have you heard nothing--no hoof beats?"

"Not a thing," answered Jim. "We can't see the wagon from here, but I
could hear anything if anything had come."

Pike looked wistfully back up the Pass. In one or two places the road
was visible from their lookout, winding and twisting around the rocks.

Three hundred yards away it turned around the foot of a hill and from
that point was utterly lost to view. Pike looked at the sun, then at his
old silver watch. "After seven o'clock, by jove! and not back yet," he
muttered. "It's full time we were off for the Chiquito, but we can't
stir without the captain." Then he turned once more to Jim. "Water the
horses and give them a good measure of barley each, then put some dry
wood on those embers in the niche there--be sure and make no smoke--and
cook some breakfast for us all. I've got to go up to that point yonder.
From there I can see all over the open country to the west, and the
road, too, as far as Jarvis Pass. These glasses will show every moving
object to me, and I haven't a doubt I'll see the captain somewhere out
there in the distance coming back to join us. Darn the mules! I don't
much care whether he gets them or not, but I'd like about two minutes'
private interview with that blasted greaser."

So saying, Pike got a pail of water from the "tank," liberally soused
his head, face and neck in the clear, cold water; then, throwing his
rifle over his shoulder, the brave fellow went springing down the
winding trail to the roadway and then strode westward up the Pass. A few
moments brought him to the base of the little hill, a short, sharp climb
brought him to its crest, and there, kneeling, he adjusted the glasses,
and for a long, long minute swept the open cou