gates of a mill-pond when they have been slightly raised to allow a
discharge of water beneath. Through the passage-way thus afforded no
living person could have forced his way; and, had Mickey O'Rooney
attempted it, nothing in the world could have saved him from drowning. The
Irishman himself realized it, and was thankful enough that he had
refrained from making the desperate attempt.

The two continued their sweeping gallop for several hours, during which
they did not catch a glimpse of Indians, but they were alarmed by hearing
the reports of guns at no great distance on the right. The firing was
irregular, sometimes several shots being heard together, and then they
were more of a dropping character. This showed that a fight of some kind
was going on, but as to its precise nature they could only conjecture. It
might be that a party of Comanches and Apaches, or Kiowas, or hunters were
enjoying a hot time, but the two friends were glad to get out of the
neighborhood as speedily as possible. At noon they enjoyed the
satisfaction of knowing that they had made good and substantial progress
on the way home. There was an abundance of grass and water, and when the
sun was overhead they went into camp.

"I'm as hungry as a panther that has been fasting for a month," said
Mickey, as he dismounted; "and I haven't got a mouthful of food lift.
There ain't any use of a chap starving to death to accommodate anybody
else, and I don't mane to do the same."

Fred Munson's hunger was scarcely less than his, but the boy would have
been willing to have undergone still more, rather than incur the risk that
was now inevitable. But Mickey saw nothing to be gained by such a course
and contended that they should give their attention to the wants of their
bodies, before they were weakened by fasting and fatigue.