This was the question the lad kept revolving in his mind, as he advanced
step by step. With the pistol he could bury two or three balls in the body
of the redskin before he could suspect where they came from, and thus
completely clear the path before him. But there were doubts in the way.
The revolver might miss fire, in which case all hope would be gone. In a
hand-to-hand tussle the Apache would be more than a match for a dozen such
lads. True, the weapon had not failed when he pulled the trigger in the
cave, but there was no certainty that it would not do so when he most
needed it.

Then, too, he felt a natural repugnance against stealing upon a foe in
this fashion, and shooting him in the back. It had a cowardly look, even
when certain that the threatened party would have done precisely the same
thing, had the opportunity come in his way.

"I will push him over, if he don't make me shoot him."

But to do this necessitated a much closer approach. He must literally be
within "striking distance." Could he place himself there without
discovery? If the redskin were asleep, or if his mind was occupied with
something of a different nature, or if there were some extraneous noise,
the case would be different. The blowing of the wind, the murmur of a
waterfall (such as Fred had heard when lying upon the ground in the same
spot) would have been a most fortunate diversion. But there was nothing of
the kind. There was a dead calm, not a breath of air stirring, and the day
was hot.

Fred had approached within twenty feet, and still the Apache did not stir.
How vivid and indelibly his appearance was impressed upon the vision of
the boy! He could never forget it. The redskin, although of powerful