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that boy.
I was conscious of the fresh smell of the pines and of crushed
pine needles underfoot. There was a faint smell of smoke from the camp, and I
could make out the sound of Indian voices speaking. Inside me, I was still
waiting, thinking.
If there were other white children around, that boy would know
about them. But what if he had already become close to being an Apache? Taken
young enough, many American or Mexican children had no wish to leave the
Apaches. To speak to him was a risk, but it must be done.
Spanish, he looked over at me. "We got us a job, boy," he said.
"I never figured it to be easy." I studied therancheria, and I did
not feel happy about the situation.
"We're too close," Rocca said. "We'd better move back. If the wind
changed a mite, the dogs could smell us."
So we moved back among the trees and, weaving around a little, we
found ourselves a tree-shaded hollow with a lot of boulders around and some
big trees. It was a perfect place to hide, and we were out of the wind there.
But I was worried. When I traveled alone, as I most often did, I
had nobody to worry about but myself, and if I got into trouble there was only
my own scalp to lose. This shape-up was entirely different, for these men had
come along only to help me. If anything happened to them I'd have it on my
mind.
We were here, though, and we had a job to do. "Rocca," I said, "is
it likely that boy yonder would ever be left alone?"
"I doubt it. Depend on how long he's been with them, and how much
they've come to trust him. There's a chance maybe."
"He'd be likely to know about other white youngsters, wouldn't
he?"
"It's likely. Word gets around, and the Apache children would
know, and they'd be apt to speak of it. At least when I was a boy in those
Apache camps I knew most of what went on."
For the time being there was nothing much we could do, so the
others stretched out to catch a little sleep, and I worked up to the bluff to
get a better look than we'd had before.
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The camp was quiet. The squaws never stopped working, of course,
always busy at something, and a few youngsters played around. One of the
Apache braves we had seen ride into camp sat cross-legged in front of his
wickiup. He was a stoop-shouldered but strongly made man of about my own age,
and he had a new Winchester that was never far from his hand. Even here, in
their own hide-out, they never let up.
After a while I returned to camp and Spanish took my place up on
the bluff. Under a low tree I settled down for some rest.
When I awoke I fought myself back to reality with an effort. I'd
been dog-tired, and whilst I usually was ready to wake up on the slightest
sound, this time I had really slept.
The first thing I noticed was the silence. There was no fire, of
course, and there was little light. It was late afternoon, and under the trees
it was already shading down to dusk.
For a moment I lay quiet, listening. Raising my head, I looked
around. Over yonder there was a saddle I could see the faint shine of it. I
could see nothing else, nor could I hear any sound but the soft rustling of
the leaves overhead.
My right hand moved for my rifle, closed around the action. A shot
fired here would bring Apaches around us like bees from a kicked hive.
Carefully, I eased back the blanket, moved my feet out, and then
drew them up and rolled to my knees. Glancing to where John J. Battles was
lying, I could see his body under a blanket. He was asleep ... at least he was
not moving.
Rocca was nowhere in sight, his bed was empty. We had purposely
scattered out to sleep. It gave us that much more of a chance if the camp was
attacked.
A moment longer I waited, then came up swiftly and with one long
step was molded into the shadow of a tree. And still nothing stirred.
Nevertheless, I knew it wasn't just a case of worry with me.
Somebody or something was prowling our camp, and we were too close to those
Apaches for comfort. At the same time I know that the Apache, generally
speaking, won't fight after dark. He has the feeling that the soul of a man
killed in the night wanders forever in darkness. Of a sudden, something moved
near me. There was no light but that of the stars. Here and there a tree trunk
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