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He crossed the floor carefully, stopping often to listen. At last he heard a rustling

sound just ahead of him. His fingers tightened upon the revolver he carried in his

right hand, by the barrel, clublike. Billy had no intention of making any more

noise than necessary.

Again he heard a sound from the same direction. It was not at all unlike the

frightened gasp of a woman. Billy emitted a low growl, in fair imitation of a

prowling dog that has been disturbed.

Again the gasp, and a low: "Go away!" in liquid feminine tones--and in English!

Billy uttered a low: "S-s-sh!" and tiptoed closer. Extending his hands they

presently came in contact with a human body which shrank from him with

another smothered cry.

"Barbara!" whispered Billy, bending closer.

A hand reached out through the darkness, found him, and closed upon his

sleeve.

Who are you?" asked a low voice.

Billy," he replied. "Are you alone in here?"

No, an old woman guards me," replied the girl, and at the same time they both

heard a movement close at hand, and something scurried past them to be

silhouetted for an instant against the path of lesser darkness which marked the

location of the doorway.

There she goes!" cried Barbara. "She heard you and she has gone for help."

Then come!" said Billy, seizing the girl's arm and dragging her to her feet; but

they had scarce crossed half the distance to the doorway when the cries of the old

woman without warned them that the camp was being aroused.

Billy thrust a revolver into Barbara's hand. "We gotta make a fight of it, little girl,"

he said. "But you'd better die than be here alone."

As they emerged from the hut they saw warriors running from every doorway. The

old woman stood screaming in Piman at the top of her lungs. Billy, keeping

Barbara in front of him that he might shield her body with his own, turned

directly out of the village. He did not fire at first hoping that they might elude

detection and thus not draw the fire of the Indians upon them; but he was

doomed to disappointment, and they had taken scarcely a dozen steps when a

rifle spoke above the noise of human voices and a bullet whizzed past them.

288

The Mucker