I felt the skin tighten on my face. Suddenly,
as I paused, I beard angry voices, pitched high. But I could not make out
the words.
Curiosity got the better of me. If the men were hired by Buell I wanted to
know what they were quarrelling about. I stole stealthily from tree to
tree, and another hollow opened beneath me. It was so wide and the pines so
overshadowed it that I could not tell how close the opposite side might be
to the campfire. I slipped down along the edge of the trail. The blaze
disappeared. Only a faint arc of light showed through the gloom.
I peered keenly into the blackness. At length I reached the slope. Here I
dropped to my hands and knees.
It was a long crawl to the top. Reaching it, I cautiously peeped over.
There were trees hiding the fire. But it was close. I heard the voices of
men. I backed down the slope, crossed the trail, and came up on the other
side. Pines grew thick on this level, and I stole silently from one to
another. Finally I reached the black trunk of a tree close to the campfire.
For a moment I lay low. I did not seem exactly afraid, but I was all tense
and hard, and my heart drummed in my ears. There was something ticklish
about this scouting. Then I peeped out.
It added little to my excitement to recognize the Mexican.
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