“That’s just the place the varmints would want—­they could n’t want any nicer.  You may be lookin’ at that spot, and they’ll crawl right in afore you’r eyes, and lay thar for hours without your seein’ ’em.  You want to get things fixed, so that you can make a good fight when they do swoop down on you.  I guess that long-legged chap that I was talkin’ to knows enough for that.  You seem to have more sense than any of ’em, and I’ll give you a little advice.  Let’s see, what’s your name?”

The Irishman gave it, and the hunter responded by mentioning his own.

“Do you put some one in here to keep watch night and day, and the minute you see the redskins comin’ give the signal and run for your friends there.  Then if the red-skins foller, you must let ’em have it right and left.  If you find you can’t hold your own agin ’em, you must make all haste to Fort Severn, as you heard me say a while ago.  Aim for the setting sun, and after you’ve gone fifty miles or so you’ll be thar.  Good by to you, now; I’m watching the Injin movements in these parts, and, if the signs are bad, and I have the chance, I’ll give you notice; but you must n’t depend on me.”

The hunter leaned over the saddle, and warmly shook the hand of the
Irishman, the two having conceived a strong liking for each other.

Then he wheeled his mustang about, and gave him a word that caused him at once to break into a swift gallop, which quickly carried him up the slope, until he reached the margin of the valley, over which he went at the same rate, and speedily vanished from view.

The Irishman stood gazing at the spot where he had vanished, and then he walked thoughtfully back toward the settlement, where all were as busy as beavers, getting their rude huts and homes in condition for living.  In doing this Caleb Barnwell was guided by a desire to be prepared for the Indian visitation, which he knew was likely soon to be made.  They had gathered an immense quantity of driftwood along the banks of the Rio Pecos, and the other timber that they needed had already been cut and dragged from the woods, so that about all the material they needed was at hand.

Even with their huts a third or a half finished, they would be in a much better condition to receive the attack of the Apaches than if compelled to place their heavy luggage-wagons in a semi-circle and fight from behind them.

“The gentleman spakes the thruth,” muttered Mickey, as he walked along, “and I’m not the one to forgit such a favor, when he took so much pains to tell me.  I’ll remember and fix a watch in the wood.”

CHAPTER III FRED GOES ON GUARD

Mickey O’Rooney, fully believing the warning of the hunter, could not but feel deeply anxious for the safety of himself and those around him.  He was particularly concerned for his young friend, Fred Munson, who had been committed to his charge.