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Updated: June 4, 2025
The course of the cavern, in reality, was as winding as that of the ravine in which he had effected his escape from the Apaches, and from which it seemed he had irrevocably strayed. Had he attempted to make his return, he would have found it impossible to rejoin Mickey O'Rooney, unless the two should call and signal to each other.
They had been separated from them for five years, during which they had met but once, when the parents made a journey to New York for that purpose, spending several months with them. That visit, it may be said, was now to be returned, and the boys meant that it should be returned with interest. And so Tim O'Rooney, a good-natured, trustworthy Irishman, who had been in the employ of Mr.
"I've got half a dozen other scars strung here and there about my body, the most of which was made by that lonely Apache chief that is called Lone Wolf; so I reckon you'll conclude that he and me have some acquaintance. Oh! we was as lovin' as a couple of brothers!" Mickey O'Rooney lifted his cap, and scratched his red head in a puzzled way, as if he were debating some weighty matter.
Tim O'Rooney carefully sighted his rifle, took a quick, steady aim, and pulled the trigger. Howard, who was keenly watching the antelope, saw it spring up, and as it came down it missed the cliff and fell almost at their very feet with a violence and crash which must have broken half the bones in its body.
I'll remember and fix a watch in the wood." Mickey O'Rooney, fully believing the warning of the hunter, could not but feel deeply anxious for the safety of himself and those around him. He was particularly concerned for his young friend, Fred Munson, who had been committed to his charge.
Tim had had some experience in the matter, and could propel it quite dexterously; but the boys were much at fault: they expended far more strength than there was any need for, and soon exhausted themselves so thoroughly that they were obliged to relinquish the sole management of the boat into the hands of Tim O'Rooney.
By the time Elwood needed rest, Tim O'Rooney was ready, and so the paddle did unceasing work, each member having all the time necessary for rest, until after they had been to work some hours, the boys found their arms remained tired, and a longer cessation needed. Shasta seemed to look upon these essays of his friends with no little pleasure.
These and other thoughts were surging through the mind of Mickey O'Rooney, when an exclamation from Fred caused him to turn his head. The boy was running toward him, apparently in great excitement. "What's the matter, me laddy?" asked Mickey, cocking his rifle, which he had taken from him at the time of handing him the torch. "Oh, Mickey, Mickey! I saw a man just now!"
"With your lave?" said Tim O'Rooney, stepping forward and drawing the pipe of their Indian host from his mouth. The latter gazed at him in amazement but said nothing, and offered no objection to the impudent proceeding. "I fales better," complacently added the Irishman as he emitted volume after volume of tobacco smoke.
O'Rooney stood with rifle grasped, while young Munson ran toward him from the centre of the cave, exclaiming in his excited tones: "There's another man back yonder! I saw him and spoke to him!" "Did ye ax him anything, and did he make a sensible reply?" demanded the Irishman, whose concern was by no means equal to that of the lad.
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