From where I lay I could see the Apaches camped out beyond my draw, and I didn't doubt they'd visited the place.

Along about sunset they all left their camp, and went into the draw, so there, I thinks, I sees a good chance to make a start before dark.

I dropped down from the mesa, skirted the butte, and angled down across the country.

After I'd gone a half mile from the cliffs, I ran across Johnny Hooper's fresh trail headed towards camp! My heart jumped right up into my mouth at that.

Here was poor old Johnny, a day too early, with a pack-mule of grub, walking innocent as a yearling, right into the bands of those hostiles.