kept on swooping down after leaving
their spears stuck in the earth a mile away. They would gallop to
within easy range, and then turning their horses' heads, canter along
parallel with the mountain, throw themselves sidewise on the flank of
their horse farthest from the place attacked, take aim and fire beneath
the animal's neck, their own bodies being completely hidden by the
horse. It is almost needless to say that the shots they fired never did
any harm, the position, the bad aim, and the motion of the horse being
sufficient to send the bullets flying in the wildest way, either into
the plain or high up somewhere on the face of the rock.

All at once this desultory, almost unresisted attack came to an end, as
a fresh body of Indians cantered up; many of the latter leading horses,
to which the attacking party from the canyon now made their way; and
just at sundown the whole body galloped off, without so much as giving
the beleaguered ones a farewell shot.

Bart watched them go off in excellent order right away out into the
plain, the orange rays of the setting sun seeming to turn the half-nude
figures into living bronze. Then the desert began to grow dim, the sky
to darken, a few stars to peep out in the pale grey arch, and after a
party had been deputed to keep watch, this intermission in the attack
was seized upon as the time for making a hearty meal, the sentries not
being forgotten.

"And now, Bart," said the Doctor, "I shall keep the gate myself to-night
with half a dozen men. I should like you and Joses to watch in the
gallery once more with the Beaver's men. These Apaches will be back
again to-night to try and drive off the capital prize, if they could get
it, of our cattle."

"Very good, sir," said Bart, cheerily; "I'll watch."

"So will I," growled Joses.

"I wish you had the Beaver to help you. Poor fellow!" said the Doctor,
sadly; "his was a wonderful eye. The interpreter will become chief now,
I suppose."

"Perhaps so, sir," said Bart; "but he says that the Beaver is not dead,
but will come back."

"I would he spoke the truth," said the Doctor, sadly. "The poor fellow
died that we might be saved, like a hero. But there, we have no time
for repining. Let us get well into our places before dark. Joses, can
you be a true prophet?" he added.

"What about, master?" said the frontiersman.

"And tell me when I may be allowed to mine my silver in peace?"

"No, master, I'm not prophet eno