BY SEELIN ROBINS,
Author of “The Specter Chief.”
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
FRANK STARR & CO.,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
It was now quite late in the afternoon, and FredWainwright reined up his mustang, and from his positiontook a survey of the surrounding prairie. Onhis right stretched the broad dusty plain, broken bysome rough hills, and on his left wound the Gila,while in the distance could be detected the faint blueof the Maggolien Mountains.
But it was little heed he paid to the natural beautiesof the scene, for an uncomfortable fear had takenpossession of him during the last hour. Once ortwice he was sure he had detected, off towards themountains signs of Comanche Indians, and he waswell satisfied that if such were the case they had assuredlyseen him, and just now he was speculatingupon the best line of retreat if such were the case.
“If they are off there, and set their eyes on me,”he speculated, “the only chance for me is towards theGila, and what can I do there?”
He might well ask the question, for it was onewhich would probably require a speedy answer. TheComanches, as are well known, are among the mostdaring riders and bravest red men on the AmericanContinent, and when they take it into their heads to10follow up an enemy, one of three things is certain—hisdestruction, a desperate fight or a skilful escape.
The young hunter had no desire