The fissure which had afforded this temporary refuge was about fifty feet
in length, and the vegetation was so thick that at almost any portion the
view was no greater than three or four yards. Mickey was in constant
expectation of encountering some of the Apaches at every step he took,
and, in accordance with his principle of hitting a head wherever he saw
it, he held his rifle so as to fire on the very instant the coppery face
presented itself to view. But he saw none, and as he advanced he began to
believe that the place was entirely free of the Apaches, who, if prudent,
would quietly wait on the outside until their prey dropped into their
hands.

It was not to be supposed that they would leave any opening on the outside
by which the most forlorn chance could be obtained, and Mickey had no
thought of any such thing. If he had, it would have been dissipated by the
evidence of his own ears. He could hear distinctly their peculiar grunting
voices, the tramp of their mustangs, and the evidence which a score of
Indian warriors might be expected to give of their presence, when they had
no reason for concealment.

"It may be that the spalpeens mean to make a rush upon me," he muttered,
as he halted near the end of the fissure, "in which case I shall have a
delightful employment in cracking their pates as they come up and take
their turn."

He remained where he was a few minutes longer, and, seeing no prospect of
learning anything additional, he resumed his advance until he reached a
point where it was only necessary to draw the branches slightly apart to
gain a view of the main ravine. And this he proceeded to do in the
gentlest and most cautious manner possible.