all costs, Bob pressed on,
seldom taking his eyes from the ground, where the imprints showed how
heavy hoofs had thrashed the trail.

What had happened to his chum? Had the savage merely stolen him for some
wild purpose--perhaps to await a ransom? Or could the worst have
happened, and Alf be even now---- No, no. Bob could not bear that
thought, and he put it from him, struggling manfully to retain hope as
well as strength.

And then suddenly--when it was about noon--he came upon the Scotsman's
pack-horse quietly grazing beneath the trees, and at a little distance
Alf sitting on the ground with Red Fox prostrate, resting his head on
the lad's lap.

CHAPTER XVII

THE FATE OF RED FOX

It may seem a little surprising that Alf did not make a better
resistance when he found himself being carried away on horseback. It is
no easy matter for even an Indian to carry a person lying in front of
him on a bare-backed broncho when the person is helpless and still. It
is a yet less easy matter--if not an impossibility--to do the same thing
with a struggling captive.

Of course we know that Holden was at a disadvantage. He was powerless to
use his arms, which were held close to his sides by the wrappings, and
it was with difficulty that he breathed. But his legs were comparatively
free, and it would not have required much energy to make such resistance
as would have considerably hampered Red Fox in his purpose.

The reason for the lad's passive demeanour is not difficult to
understand.

Alf was no fool. Indeed, he possessed a more than usual degree of common
sense, together with a gift for rapid reasoning. He quickly decided
that, for the time being at least, he was at the Indian's mercy. His
instinct told him that, for some unknown reason, he must have incurred
the native's wrath; and, even though he might have struggled with a
measure of success, the Indian was both powerful and passionate enough
to murder him then and there.

No person, even in the direst straits, is anxious to incur a violent
death. Holden was no exception to that rule, so he deemed it best to
make pretence of fainting, on the chance that time might release him
from his plight. It would only be a needless exhaustion to struggle now,
when he would be easily overpowered. Moreover, a show of resistance
might mean the sudden plunge of a hunting-knife.

So he lay still, and the Indian laughed aloud, believing the lad to be
unconscious through fright