"What do you think is going on?" asked my companion, as several more reports rang out.
"What I feared; the Apaches are attacking the men who went out to bring in the dead or wounded men at Soldiers' Holes."
"And if Mr. Baldwin was not the wounded man there, I suppose he is sure to be in this scrape. Why not rush in with the escort and frighten them away?"
"No doubt we could frighten them if they are not too many," I answered; "but we have good reason to believe that they are out in force, and it will be prudent for us to learn the situation at the ranch before we go nearer. I want to join the white men without the Indians' knowledge, if possible. Our presence seems to be unknown to both parties."
"Then Mr. Baldwin must be the man killed."
"He may be there, and the men may know we are on the road; but it certainly does not look like it."
"No; she does not know the locality, nor has she any friends at the ranch. She will not take a message to a stranger."
We had now reached a point from which we could see a log cabin, a stable, and an open shed. On the side of the buildings toward us, as if screening themselves from an enemy in the opposite direction, were a few men.
"If you would like me to, I can crawl to the house without being seen," said Frank. "That cart, wagon, and stack will screen me."
"Yes, you can do it easily. Tell Mr. Hopkins we are here, and to make no demonstration when we close up. I will explain a plan to him which, I think, will enable us to teach the Apaches a lesson. If you find Mr. Baldwin there, tell him to show himself at a window or door."
[2] Begun in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE No. 868.
The two days' journey that followed was very much like that of the first day--an early start, two hours' rest in the middle of the day, and the night spent at a road-side tavern. On the third day they left civilization behind them, and their mid-day rest was spent in the woods. They were then upon a lower spur of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The road for the first two days had been fairly good, but on the third day the four roans had all they could do to haul the heavy coach up and down the rough highway. They stood to their work gallantly, though, and Lord Fairfax remarked that the coach could go twenty miles farther up the mountain, where he had a hunting-lodge--a sort of outpost for Greenway Court, and where the coach was stored. Glorious weather had followed them. The air was keener and colder than in the low country, and Lance produced a huge furred mantle, in which he wrapped Lord Fairfax, who sat and read unconcernedly while the coach rolled and jerked and bumped along. George was glad to make half his day's travel on horseback, and the exercise, as a warmer-up, was so much better than the Earl's fur mantle that he felt sometimes like suggesting a gallop to Lord Fairfax. But he had the wit to keep his suggestions to himself, knowing that older men can do their own thinking much better than it can be done for them by fifteen-year-old boys. George had enjoyed every moment of the trip so far. His attacks of homesickness were few, and he got over them by the philosophical reflection that he would have been cruelly disappointed if his mother had not allowed him to come. He began a letter to his mother, writing a little every day, so that if he had a chance to visit the low country it would be all ready to send at a moment's notice. He was very happy. He had in prospect a new and delightful experience in travel and association. When that was over he had the cheerful hospitality and honest gayety of his Christmas at Mount Vernon to look forward to with his brother and his sister-in-law, whom he dearly loved, and dear little Betty; and after that a return home, where he fitted naturally and easily into the position of his mother's best helper and counsellor.
