"
"No--never--no danger of them being friends--they are rival tribes,"
said San Pedro. "But either one may attack us--the one that is the
victor. It is better that we keep away."
"I guess you're right," agreed Tom. "Lead the way, San Pedro, and
we'll get out of sight."
But there was a fascination in watching the distant battle that was
hard to resist. It was like looking at a moving picture, for at that
distance none of the horrors of war were visible. True, natives went
down by scores, and it was not to be doubted but what they were
killed or injured, but it seemed more like a big football scrimmage
than a fight.
"This is great!" cried Tom. "I like to watch it, but I'm sorry for
the poor chaps that get hurt or killed. I hope they're only stunned
as we stunned the wild horses."
"I'm afraid it is more serious than that," spoke San Pedro. "These
natives are very bloodthirsty. It would not be well for us to incur
their anger."
"We won't run any chances," decided Tom. "We'll just travel on. Come
on, Ned--Mr. Damon."
As he spoke there was a sudden victorious shout from the scene of
the battle.
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