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                              THROUGH APACHE LAND

                             BY LIEUT. R. H. JAYNE

AUTHOR OF "LOST IN THE WILDERNESS," "IN THE PECOS COUNTRY," "THE CAVE IN
THE MOUNTAIN," ETC.

NEW YORK
THE MERSHON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyrighted, 1893,
BY THE PRICE-MCGILL CO.




[Illustration: THE WARRIOR HAD NOT TIME TO RECOVER * * * WHEN TOM
GRASPED HIM BY THE THROAT.]




CONTENTS.


I--Moonlight on the Rio Gila

II--Tom Hardynge's Ruse

III--Pursued by the Apaches

IV--Outwitted

V--An Alarming Message

VI--The Two Scouts

VII--The Cavalry Escort

VIII--In Devil's Pass

IX--Among the Apaches

X--Lone Wolf

XI--Surrounded by Danger

XII--"The Hour has Come"

XIII--The Flight

XIV--Pursued

XV--In the Solitude

XVI--Among the Mountains

XVII--A Mysterious Camp Fire

XVIII--The Indian Fight

XIX--A Terrible Meeting

XX--White vs. Red

XXI--Friends Together

XXII--Anxious Waiting

XXIII--The Death Shot

XXIV--The Buffaloes

XXV--Alone Again

XXVI--Capturing a Mustang

XXVII--A Run for Life

XXVIII--A Great Misfortune

XXIX--The Lone Camp Fire

XXX--Fighting a Grizzly

XXXI--Sleep

XXXII--Reunited

XXXIII--Closing in

XXXIV--Hurricane Hill

XXXV--The Sentinel

XXXVI--A Desperate Scheme

XXXVII--The Two Defenders

XXXVIII--Hand to Hand

XXXIX--Conclusion




THROUGH APACHE LAND.




CHAPTER I.

MOONLIGHT ON THE RIO GILA.


Along the eastern bank a small Indian canoe, containing a single
individual, was stealing its way--"hugging" the shore so as to take
advantage of the narrow band of shadow that followed the winding of the
stream. There were no trees on either side of the river, but this
portion was walled in by bluffs, rising from three or four to fully
twenty feet in height. The current was sluggish and not a breath of air
wrinkled the surface on this mild summer night.

It was in the wildest part of the Indian country, and Tom Hardynge, the
hunter, runner and bearer of all dispatches between the frontier posts
in the extreme southwest, knew very well that for three days past it had
been his proverbial good fortune, or rather a special Providence, that
had kept his scalp from ornamenting the lodge of some marauding Comanche
or Apache. Tom was one of the bravest and most skillful of borderers in
those days, and had been up in the Indian country to learn the truth of
numerous rumors which had come to the stations, reports of a general
uprising among the redskins, with whom the peace commissioners had
succeeded in negotiating treaties after months of diplomacy. After
spending more than a week in dodging back and forth, in the disguise of
an Indian he had learned enough to feel that there was good foundation
for these rumors, and that the exposed stations and settlements were in
imminent peril. As soon as he was assured of this fact he started on his
return to Fort Havens, which still lay a good three days' travel to the
southwest. It was Tom's purpose to continue his descent until the
following night, when, if nothing unexpected should intervene, he hoped
to reach the point where he had left his mustang, and thence it would be
plain sailing for the rest of the way. He knew the country thoroughly,
and was confident that it was safer to perform a part of the journey by
water than by land, which explains how it was that he was still in the
paint and garb of an Indian, and still stealing his way down toward the
Gulf of California.

"Them Apaches are a cute set," he muttered, as he glided along through
the bank of shadow; "I believe they've larned I've been up among them
lookin' around. I can't tell 'zactly how they larned it. I've played
Injun so often that I know I can do it purty well; but they know there's
somethin' in the air, and them signs I spied yesterday showed plain
'nough that they was lookin' for me. They'd give a dozen of their best
warriors, with a chief throwed in to make good weight, to keep me from
reachin' Fort Havens with the news that the Apaches are makin' ready to
raise Old Ned along the border. Fact is, I do carry big news, that's
sartin. Hello!"

This exclamation was caused by the appearance of a bright point of light
on the edge of the bluff, several hundred yards down the river, and upon
the opposite side. At first glance it resembled some star of the first
magnitude, which a sudden depression of the bluff had made visible. The
scout ceased paddling, and, suffering the canoe to drift slowly with the
tide, fixed his keen gray eyes upon the fiery point.

"That ain't any more of a star than I am