Indeed, the strange mien, the silent action, the somber character
of the Indian had not been without effect upon the minds of the
men. Then the weird, desolate, tragic scene added to the vague
sense of mystery. And now the disappearance of Rojas's band,
the long wait in the silence, the boding certainty of invisible
foes crawling, circling closer and closer, lent to the situation
a final touch that made it unreal.
"I'm reckonin' there's a mind behind them Greasers," replied Jim.
"Or mebbe we ain't done Rojas credit...If somethin' would only
come off!"
That Lash, the coolest, most provokingly nonchalant
of men in times of peril, should begin to show a nervous strain
was all the more indicative of a suble pervading unreality.
"Boys, look sharp!" suddenly called Lash. "Low down to the left
--mebbe three hundred yards. See, along by them seams of lava
--behind the choyas. First off I thought it was a sheep. But it's
the Yaqui!...Crawlin' swift as a lizard! Can't you see him?"
It was a full moment before Jim's companions could locate the
Indian. Flat as a snake Yaqui wound himself along with incredible
rapidity. His advance was all the more remarkable for the fact that
he appeared to pass directly under the dreaded choyas. Sometimes
he paused to lift his head and look. He was directly in line with a
huge whorl of lava that rose higher than any point on the slope.
This spur was a quarter of a mile from the position of the rangers.
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