And they were travelling west--west! Keith drew a deep breath, and swore to himself, "Of all the blame fools!" He perceived the picture in all its grewsome details--the two mule-drawn wagons moving slowly along the trail in the early morning; the band of hostile Indians suddenly swooping out from some obscure hiding place in the bluffs; the discovery of their presence; the desperate effort at escape; the swerving from the open trail in vain hope of reaching the river and finding protection underneath its banks; the frightened mules galloping wildly, lashed into frenzy by the man on horseback; the pounding of the ponies' hoofs, punctuated by the exultant yells of the pursuers.

Again he swore: "Of all the blame fools!".