The panting fugitive was rendered almost frantic by the thought that he was about to elude the red-skin after all.

As he bounded into cover, he cast a terrified glance backward, to see how close to his heels was his dreaded enemy.
Not an Indian was visible.
But although Fred failed to see anything of his enemies, he could not but believe that they were somewhere in the immediate neighborhood, and he did not relax his efforts in the slightest.

Such strenuous efforts speedily exhausted him, and after climbing, clambering, and stumbling forward and upward for some twenty rods or so, he tripped and pitched forward upon his face, where he lay panting, and so weak that he could not rise.

He was sure he heard the footsteps of his pursuer but a short distance away, and the most that he could do was to raise his head and glance furtively in the direction.

He had not the strength absolutely to rise to his feet and run away.
Again and again he was confident that the Apache was close to him, but still he did not become visible, and all this time Fred was rapidly regaining his strength.