Fred was now fully satisfied that it would not do to leave the tree so long as a particle of daylight remained.  Apaches were too plentiful in those parts.

“I s’pose they’ll hang around till night, though I can’t see what they’re going to make by it,” said the boy to himself.  “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.  There was naturally a great attachment between the two, and Fred would have been off most of the time, skimming over the prairie, had he been allowed to do so, but Hurricane was in the group in the centre of the settlement, with the others, which the Indians had tried so hard to stampede, and he was as difficult to reach, under the circumstances, as were his friends themselves.

CHAPTER VIII THE SWOOP OF THE APACHE

The afternoon dragged slowly by with Fred crouching, as he was, in the top of the tree and waiting for the time to come when he might descend and make the attempt to rejoin his friends, who could not but be greatly concerned over his absence.  At rare intervals, the spiteful crack of a rifle reached his ear as before, and he knew that the white and red men were watching each other, both ready to seize the first opportunity that might offer for obtaining the slighest advantage.  The occasional clamping of the hoofs of a galloping horse showed, too, that his dreaded foes were close at hand.

Finally, the sun disappeared, and darkness slowly settled over wood, forest, and prairie.  There was the moon, shining as bright and unclouded as on the night before; but the shadow was so dense among the trees that this was of no particular importance, and so soon as night was fairly come the impatient lad was resolved upon making the attempt to reach his friends.

No Apaches had been seen beneath the tree since the departure of the first stealthy visitor, and the hope was quite strong within the lad that in the hurry and swirl of the fight the red-skins had failed to note him in his hiding-place.  If such were really the case, it would seem that there was a chance of his passing through the lines without detection.