Ten o'clock
She sees her soldier boy , crouching low , draw himself to Walsh 's side , sees him glancing eagerly over the rocks , then signalling to some one on their own side , pointing here and there along the wooded slope beyond her vision ; sees him now , with fierce light in his eyes , suddenly clutch Walsh 's sleeve and nod towards some invisible object to the south ; sees Walsh toss the butt of his carbine to the shoulder and with quick aim send a bullet driving thither ; sees Drummond take the field-glass and , resting it on the eastward ledge , gaze long and fixedly out over the eastward way ; sees him start , draw back the glass , wipe the lenses with his silken kerchief , then peer again ; sees him drop them with a gesture almost tragic , but she can not hear the moan that rises to his lips . `` My God ! those are Apaches , too . '' Ten o'clock on a blazing Arizona morning . The hot sun is pouring down upon the jagged front of a range of heights where occasional clumps of pine and cedar , scrub oak and juniper , seemed the only vegetable products hardy enough to withstand the alternations of intense heat by day and moderate cold by night , or to find sufficient sustenance to eke out a living on so barren a soil . Out to the eastward , stretching away to an opposite range , lies a sandy desert dotted at wide intervals with little black bunches of `` scrub mezquite '' and blessed with only one redeeming patch of foliage , the copse of willows and cottonwood here at the mouth of a rock-ribbed defile where a little brook , rising heaven knows how or where among the heights to the west , comes frothing and tumbling down through the windings of the gorge only to bury itself in the burning sands beyond the shade . So narrow and tortuous is the cañon , so precipitous its sides , as to prove conclusively that by no slow process , but by some sudden spasm of nature , was it rent in the face of the range .