"They've tried to clear out Mr.Barnwell and the rest of them, but could n't begin to do it, and now it won't do them any good to stay here.

It'll be pretty risky for me to try and get into the house after dark, but they know I am out here and they will be looking for me.

And then Mickey--" At the mention of the Irishman's name, Fred suddenly stopped with a start, for he was reminded of a fact which had escaped him until that moment.

Mickey O'Rooney had gone out on a little scout of his own, some hours before, and he had not yet returned, so that his situation, in one sense, was like his own.

But he manifestly had greater advantage, for he was not only fully armed, but was mounted on one of the fleetest mustangs of the West; so that, unless he ran into some trap, he need fear no disturbance from them.
"I only wish I was with him," reflected Fred, "mounted upon Hurricane.
I wouldn't mind a little run into some of these Apaches that think they are such wonderful riders." As has been intimated in another place, young Munson had been furnished with one of the finest of prairie steeds--one whose speed, endurance, and intelligence was extraordinary.