advocated reaching them from the roof, while it was apparent that there
were those who insisted upon waiting until the fruit should become ripe
enough to fall into their laps without shaking. There could be little
doubt that the Apaches preferred to take both prisoners, instead of
shooting or tomahawking them in a fight. They were under the inspiration
of Lone Wolf, who believed that a live man was much more valuable than a
dead one.

While Mickey was watching this group with an interest which may be
imagined, he noticed that a short, thick, greasy, filthy warrior was
looking directly toward him, with a steadiness which caused the Irishman
to suspect that his presence was known. The Indian, like all of them, was
as homely as he could be. He, too, had gone through an attack of smallpox,
which had left his broad face so deeply pitted that it could be noticed
through the vari-colored paint which was daubed thereon. There was
scarcely any forehead, the black, piercing eyes were far apart, and when
Mickey saw them turned toward him, he felt anything but comfortable under
their fire.

"I wonder whether he would keep mum if I should tip him the wink?" thought
Mickey, who suffered the leaves in front of his face to close until there
was just the smallest space through which he could watch his man.

The latter acted very much as if he suspected the proximity of the
Irishman, even if he was not assured of it. He continued looking directly
at the point where the eyes of the white man peered out upon him, and
by-and-by he raised his arm and pointed in the same direction, saying
something at the same time to a couple of the warriors near him.

"Be the powers, if that doesn't mane _me_, as me friend Larry O'Toole said