his breast as he counted sixty-three Chiricahuas.
The amazement of it held his gaze between the two rocks for a longer time than he realized. He jerked his head back quickly an d looked at Ningun who had been spying the camp from a similar concealment. As he looked at Ningun he realized that the Apache understood now, just as he did, why Pillo had left such an obvious trail. But this was not the place to discuss it.
Making their way back to the outer edge of the mesa seemed to tak e even longer, though actually they snaked through the tall grass at a faster pace than before. They were seasoned enough to retain thei r calm caution, but now time was even more important, if they were t o cope with Pillo. In less than two hours the sun would be present to create new problems. At the edge of the mesa Travisin, still crouched, peered cautiously to the ledge below, and then past it, determining th e quickest route that would lead them to their planned rendezvous wit h Fry and the others.
Without speaking, he nudged Ningun and pointed a direction diagonally down the mountainside. The scout rose to his feet silently and placed himself in position to jump to the ledge below. Travisi n turned his head for a last look in the direction of the hostile camp. A s he did so, he heard a dull thud and an agonizing grunt escape fro m the scout. He wheeled, instinctively drawing his pistol, and saw Ningu n go backward over the edge, an arrow shaft protruding from his chest.
TRAVISIN WAS UP and hurling himself at the ledge in one motion. It happened so fast that the Apache aiming his bow on the ledge below was just a blur, but he heard the arrow whine overhead as he landed on th e sprawled form of Ningun and was projected off balance toward th e Apache a few feet away. The Apache hurled his bow aside with a piercin g shriek and went for a knife at his waist just as Travisin brought his pistol up. In the closeness, the front sight caught in the Apache's waistband o n the upward swing, and the barrel was pressing into his stomach when h e pulled the trigger. The Indian screamed again and staggered back of f the ledge. Travisin hesitated a second, searching the mountainside for the best escape, but it was too late. He heard the yelp at the same time he felt the heavy blow at the back of his skull. He heard the wind rush throug h his ears and saw the orange flash sear across his eyes, and then nothing.
Chapter Six .
PILLO WAITED UNTIL the officer opened his eyes and started to prop himself up on his elbows. Then he kicked Travisin in the temple with the side of his moccasined foot. The Indians howled with laughter as Travisin sprawled on his back, shook his head and attempted to rise again. Pillo caught him on the shoulder this time, but still with enough force to slam the officer back against the ground. The other Apaches closed in, a few of them catching Travisin about the head and shoulders with vicious kicks, before Pillo stepped close to Travisin and held his hands in the air. He chattered for some time in Apache, raising and lowering his voice, and at the end they all stepped back; Pillo was still chief, though wizened and scarred with age. Travisin knew enough of the tongue to know that he was being saved for something else. He thought of old Solomon.
Two of the warriors pulled him to his feet and half-dragged him to the center of the rancheria. Most of the Apaches were stripped to breechcloths, streaks of paint on their chests contrasting with the dinginess of their dirt-smudged bodies. They stood about him, silent now, their dark eyes burning with anticipation of what was to come. Asesino, Pillo's son-in-law, walked up to within a foot of the captain, stared at him momentarily and then spat full in his face. Asesino's lips were curling into laughter when Travisin punched him in the mouth and sent him sprawling at the feet of the warriors.
HE ROSE SLOWLY, reaching for his knife, but Pillo again intervened, speaking harshly to his
Learning to Kill: Stories