The Last Herd 



and increased in volume till it became a roar, 

 ents, endless moments, passed. The roar filled 

 ke a flood slowly released from its confines to 

 down with the sound of doom. The ground 

 began to tremble and quake; the light faded; the 

 smell of dust pervaded the thicket, then a continuous 

 streaming roar, deafening as persistent roll of thun 

 der, pervaded the hiding place. The stampeding 

 horses had split round the hollow. The roar less 

 ened. Swiftly as a departing snow-squall rushing on 

 through the pines, the thunderous thud and tramp 

 of hoofs died away. 



The trained horses hidden in the cottonwoods 

 never stirred. &quot; Lie low! lie low!&quot; breathed the 

 plainsman to his companions. 



Throb of hoofs again became audible, not loud 

 and madly pounding as those that had passed, but 

 low, muffled, rhythmic. Jones s sharp eye, through 

 a peephole in the thicket, saw a cream-colored mus 

 tang bob over the knoll, carrying an Indian. Another 

 and another, then a swiftly following, close-packed 

 throng appeared. Bright red feathers and white 

 gleamed; weapons glinted; gaunt, bronzed savages 

 leaned forward on racy, slender mustangs. 



The plainsman shrank closer to the ground. 

 &quot; Apache ! &quot; he exclaimed to himself, and gripped 

 his rifle. The band galloped down to the hollow, and 



57 



