"That is good; all I can ask. I know you are all right, but I want you to keep your nerve. We are going to take a big chance; we 've got to do it--a single misplay, a slip of the foot, an incautious breath may cost our lives."
"Are you going to try to get away? To elude the Indians?"
"Yes, and there is but one possibility of success--to creep the length of the gully there, and so reach the river. Here is Gonzales' belt. Don't be afraid of it; it is not dead men who are going to hurt us. Swing the strap over your shoulder this way, and slip the revolver into the holster. That's right; we'll carry as little as we can, and leave our hands free." He hesitated, staring about in the darkness, swiftly deciding what to take. "Do you happen to know if either of the passengers carried any grub?"
"Grub?"
"Plains' term for food," impatiently, "rations; something for lunch en route."
"Oh, yes, Mr. Moylan did; said he never took chances on having to go hungry. It was in a flat leather pouch."
"Haversack. I have it. That will be enough to carry, with the canteen. Now there is only one thing more before we leave. We must impress those fellows with the notion that we are wide-awake, and on guard yet. See any movement out there?"
"I--I am not sure," she answered doubtfully. "There is a black smudge beyond that dead pony; lean forward here and you can see what I mean--on the ground. I--I imagined it moved just then." She pointed into the darkness. "It is the merest shadow, but seemed to wiggle along, and then stop; it's still now."
Hamlin focussed his keen eyes on the spot indicated, shading them with one hand.
"Slide back further on the seat," he whispered softly, "and let me in next the window."
There was a moment's silence, the only sound the wind. The girl gripped the back of the seat nervously with both hands, holding her breath; the Sergeant, the outline of his face silhouetted against the sky, stared motionless into the night without. Suddenly, not making a sound, he lifted the rifle to his shoulder.