A STRANGE GUIDE.


"Well, if he doesn't beat any one I ever heard of!"

Mickey O'Rooney and Fred Munson were stretched on the Apache blanket,
carefully watching the eyes of the wild beast whenever they showed
themselves, and had been talking in guarded tones. The Irishman had been
silent for several minutes, when the lad asked him a question and received
no answer. When the thing was repeated several times, he crawled over to
his friend, and, as he expected, found him sound asleep.

This was not entirely involuntary upon the part of Mickey. He had shown
himself, on more than one occasion, to be a faithful sentinel, when
serious danger threatened; but he believed that there was nothing to be
feared on the present occasion, and, as he was sorely in need of sleep, he
concluded to indulge while the opportunity was given him.

"Sleep away, old fellow," said Fred. "You seem to want it so bad that I
won't wake you up again."

The boy's curiosity having been thoroughly aroused, all tendency to
slumber upon his part had departed, and he determined that if there was
any way by which he could profit any by that wolf, he would do it.

"He may hang around here for a day or two," he mused, as he heard the
faint tappings upon the sand, "thinking all the time that he'll get a
chance to make a meal off of us. So he will, if we don't keep a bright
look-out. It seems to me that he might be driven out."