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"Phil, are you there?"
It was Breakstone from the next tree, and never wassound more welcome. He raised himself a little, anddrops of rain fell from his face.
"Yes, I'm here, Bill, but I'm mighty anxious tomove," he replied in the same low tone.
"I'm tired of having my home in a graveyard, too,"said Bill Breakstone, "though I'll own that for the timeand circumstances it was about the best home that couldbe found this wide world over. It won't be more thanan hour till day, Phil, and if we make the break at allwe must make it now."
"I'm with you," said Phil. "The sooner we start, the better it will please me."
"Better stretch yourself first about twenty times," saidBill Breakstone. "Lying so long in one position withthe rain coming down on top of you may stiffen you upquite a lot."
Phil obeyed, flexing himself thoroughly. He sat upand gently touched the mummy on either side of him.He had no awe, no fear of these dead warriors. Theyhad served him well. Then, swinging from a bough, hedropped lightly to the ground, and he heard the soft noiseof some one alighting near him. The form of BillBreakstone showed duskily.
"Back from the tombs," came the cheerful whisper."Phil, you're the greatest boy that ever was, and you'vedone a job that the oldest and boldest scout might envy.
"Under the shelter of the creek bank. The woodsrun down to it, and it is high enough to hide a man."
"Then that is the way we will go, and we will notlinger in the going. Let the Comanches sing and danceif they will. They can enjoy themselves that way, butwe can enjoy ourselves more by running down the darkbed of a creek."
They slipped among the wet trees and bushes, andsilently lowered themselves down the bank into the sandof the creek bottom. There they took a parting look atthe medicine lodge. It showed through a rift in thetrees, huge and dark, and on either side of it the two sawfaint lights in the village. Above the soft swishing ofthe rain rose the steady whistling sound from the lodge, which had never been broken for a moment, not even bythe escape of the prisoner and the search.
"I was never before so glad to tell a place good-by,"whispered Bill Breakstone.
"It's time to go," said Phil. "I'll lead the way, asI've been over it once."
He walked swiftly along the sand, keeping well undercover of the bank, and Bill Breakstone was close behindhim. They heard the rain pattering on the surface of thewater, and both were wet through and through, but joythrilled in every vein of the two. Bill Breakstone hadescaped death and torture; Phil Bedford, a boy, hadrescued him in face of the impossible, and they certainlyhad full cause for rejoicing.
"How far down the creek bed do you think we oughtto go?" asked Breakstone.
"A quarter of a mile anyway," replied Phil, "andthen we can cut across the plain and enter the forest."
Everything had been so distinct and vivid that heremembered the very place at which he had dropped downinto the creek bed, when he approached the medicinelodge, and when he came to it again, he said: "Here weare," springing up at one bound. Breakstone promptlyfollowed him. Then a figure appeared in the duskimmediately in front of Phil, the figure of a tall man, nakedsave the breech cloth, a great crown of brightly coloredfeathers upon his head. It was a Comanche warrior, probably the last of those returning from the fruitlesssearch for the captive.
The Comanche uttered the whoop of alarm, and Phil, acting solely on impulse, struck madly with the butt ofhis rifle. But
he struck true. The fierce cry wassuddenly cut short. The boy, with a shuddering effect, feltsomething crush beneath his rifle stock. Then he andBill Breakstone leaped over the fallen body and ran withall their might across the plain toward the woods.
"It was well that you hit so quick and hard," breathedBreakstone, "but his single yell has alarmed the warriors.Look back, they are getting ready to pursue."
Phil cast one hurried glance over his shoulder. Hesaw lights twinkling among the Comanche lodges, andthen he heard a long, deep, full-throated cry, uttered byperhaps a hundred throats.
"Hark to them!" exclaimed Breakstone. "Theyknow the direction from which that cry came, and you andI, Phil, will have to make tracks faster than we ever didbefore in our lives."
"At any rate, we've got a good start," said Phil.
They ran with all speed toward the woods, but behindthem and in other directions they heard presently the beatof hoofs, and both felt a thrill of alarm.
"They are on their ponies, and they are galloping allover the plain," said Bill Breakstone. "Some of themare bound to find us, but you've the rifle, and I've thepistol!"
They ran with all their might, but from two or threepoints the ominous beat of hoofs came closer. They weredevoutly glad now of the rain and the shadowed moonthat hid them from all eyes except those very near. BothPhil and Breakstone stumbled at intervals, but theywould recover quickly, and continue at undiminished, speed for the woods, which were now showing in a blackerline against the black sky.