When they came to the edge of the chaparral they knelt among the bushes
and listened. Now both distinctly heard the occasional movement of
horses, and they saw the dusky outlines of several figures before the
fire, which was about three hundred yards away.
"They are bound to be Mexicans," whispered the Panther, "'cause there
are no Texans in this part of the country, an' you an' me, Ned, must
find out just who they are."
"You lead the way, Panther," said Ned. "I'll follow wherever you go."
"Then be mighty careful. Look out for the thorns an' don't knock your
rifle against any bush."
The Panther lay almost flat. His huge figure seemed to blend with the
earth, and he crept forward among the thorny bushes with amazing skill.
He was like some large animal, trained for countless generations to slip
through thickets. Ned, just behind him, could hear only the faintest
noise, and the bushes moved so little that one, not knowing, might have
credited it to the wind.
The boy had the advantage of following in the path made by the man's
larger figure, and he, too, was successful in making no sound. But he
could hear the stamp of horses' feet clearly now, and both to left and
right he caught glimpses of them tethered in the thickets.
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