rebacked riders, wildly
driving flying horses toward the swamp.

The Boss rode neck-and-neck with the Angel. He repeatedly commanded her
to stop and fall out of line, until he remembered that he would need her
to lead him to Freckles. Then he gave up and rode beside her, for she
was sending the bay at as sharp a pace as the other horses could keep
and hold out. He could see that she was not hearing him. He glanced back
and saw that Duncan was close. There was something terrifying in the
appearance of the big man, and the manner in which he sat his beast and
rode. It would be a sad day for the man on whom Duncan's wrath broke.
There were four others close behind him, and the pike filling with the
remainder of the gang; so McLean took heart and raced beside the Angel.
Over and over he asked her where the trouble was, but she only gripped
the hames, leaned along the bay's neck, and slashed away with the
blacksnake. The steaming horse, with crimson nostrils and heaving sides,
stretched out and ran for home with all the speed there was in him.

When they passed the cabin, the Bird Woman's carriage was there and Mrs.
Duncan in the door wringing her hands, but the Bird Woman was nowhere to
be seen. The Angel sent the bay along the path and turned into the west
trail, while the men bunched and followed her. When she reached the
entrance to Freckles' room, there were four men with her, and two more
very close behind. She slid from the horse, and snatching the little
revolver from her pocket, darted toward the bushes. McLean caught them
back, and with drawn weapon, pressed beside her. There they stopped in
astonishment.

The Bird Woman blocked the entrance. Over a small limb lay her revolver.
It was trained at short range on Black Jack and Wessner, who stood with
their hands above their heads.

Freckles, with the blood trickling down his face, from an ugly cut in
his temple, was gagged and bound to the tree again; the remainder of the
men were gone. Black Jack was raving as a maniac, and when they looked
closer it was only the left arm that he raised. His right, with the
hand shattered, hung helpless at his side, while his revolver lay
at Freckles' feet. Wessner's weapon was in his belt, and beside him
Freckles' club.

Freckles' face was white, with colorless lips, but in his eyes was the
strength of undying courage. McLean pushed past the Bird Woman crying.
"Hold steady on them only one minute more!"

He snatched the revo