Fred gently pulled it and the beast stopped.

He was walking so quietly that his hoofs made scarcely any sound in falling upon the flinty surface, and the Indian, from some cause or other, failed to notice the cessation of sound until the distance between them had about doubled.
At that instant, the redskin turned his head as quick as lightning.
Fred, who had been washing for that identical movement, whirled the steed about and started him back in the ravine at full gallop, the brute responding gallantly to the sudden demand made upon him.
The fugitive was expecting a shot from the rifle in the hand of the Apache, and he threw himself forward upon the horse, so as to make the target as difficult to hit as possible.

But the Indian did not fire, not only on account of the risk to his favorite mustang, but because it would have been certain to disarrange the reconnoissance upon which Waukko and his companions were engaged.
But the red-skin did not stand in stupid helplessness.

A glance told him everything, and, running with extraordinary swiftness to the nearest mustang, he vaulted upon his back and started in pursuit, putting his animal upon the jump from the first.

The few seconds' unavoidable delay gave the young fugitive something like a hundred yards start, an advantage which he used every effort to increase, and which, for a brief spell, he succeeded in doing.
Fred's object was to avoid a regular chase, for he dreaded that in such case the superior knowledge of the country possessed by the Indian would enable him to outwit him at every turn.