Apaches? That infernal mirage gives you no idea of distance or
direction. If the red devils have got away from Crook and
slipped by these Greaser rangers over the border, they'll sure be
making straight for the Ghost Range, and by this very trail. If
so, I'm at the best place on it to meet them, and here I stay
till the coast is clear." Turning to the red cross on the rock,
he reflected: "Perhaps, after all, it's a case of 'Nebo's lonely
mountain.'"

Lane had hardly reached this conclusion before he found it
justified by the sight of a mounted Apache in the regalia of war
emerging from a hidden dip in the trail below the fortification.
Lane dropped behind the parapet, evidently before he was
observed, as the steadily increasing number and loudness of the
hoof-beats on the rocky trail indicated to the listener.

Crawling back to his horse and burro, he made them lie down
against the upper wall, and picketed them with short lengths of
rope to the ground, for he foresaw that danger could come only
from the mountainside. Taking his Winchester, he returned to the
parapet, and, half-seated, half-reclining behind it, opened fire
on the unsuspecting Apaches. The leader, shot through the head,
fell from his horse, which reared and backed wildly down the
trail. Other bullets must have found their billets also, but,
because of the confusion which ensued among the Indians, the
prospector was unable to tell how many of them he had put out of
action. In a flash every rider had leaped off his horse, and,
protecting himself by its body, was scrambling with his mount to
the protecting declivity in the rear. The prospector was sorely
tempted to pump his cartridges into the group as it poured back