The redskins were now down below and the whole thing was put in shape for
operations to begin. All that remained was to find their man, and Fred
could not tell what the prospects of success were in that direction; but
he was almost ready to believe that they were all that the Indians could
ask. The sixth Apache, who remained visible, took matters very
comfortably. He stretched himself flat upon the ground, with his head
hanging almost in the opening, so that he could catch every sound that
came up from below. It was plain that he expected to be called upon to
render important service, and he did not intend to let a signal escape
him.

The hour that succeeded made little change in the situation. The action of
this redskin showed that he occasionally received and sent messages--most
probably by the subterranean telegraph--but he shifted his position very
little. While he was thus engaged, Fred Munson was intently occupied with
another scheme, and he had speedily wrought himself into a high pitch of
excitement.

"I believe I can do it," he muttered, more than once, as he revolved the
desperate scheme in his mind; but, whatever his plan was, he waited in the
hope that fortune would appear more propitious.

When the Apache had sat thus for some time, he changed his position. He
had been lying with his side toward the lad, but now he sat up, with his
back to him, and as close to the edge of the opening as was prudent, while
he held the lasso in his hand, like the fisherman on the bank of a stream,
who patiently waits and is sensitive to the slightest nibbling at the
other end of his line.

He had scarcely settled himself in this position when Fred Munson changed