leasure.

He was hoping for just such a warning from Starcus as he had received.
He wanted it as a "guarantee of good faith," and when it came all doubts
of the sincerity of his repentance were gone.

Still, although this particular Sioux might feel gratitude for the
undeserved mercy shown to him, there was no hope of anything of that
nature from his companions. Had Warren counted upon that, he would have
made the mistake of his life. He and his friend had done the bucks too
much ill to be forgiven for an act of kindness to one of their number,
even though it was actuated by a motive whose nobility they could not
fail to understand.

"That is kind of you, to warn me of my danger," remarked the youth. "I
shall not forget it. But they are so far off that I need not hurry to
mount my horse."

"Do not wait too long; they will soon be here."

"I have my pony, and they are on foot."

"But they can run fast."

"I will leave in time; but, Starcus, if you are really a friend of mine,
you have the chance to prove it by being a friend of Tim; he is a
prisoner with your people, and in need of your good offices."

"I cannot help him," was the reply, accompanied by a shake of the head.

"I only ask that you shall do what you can; I am sure you will, whether
it results in good to him or not."

"Give yourself no hope of that; it will be hard for me to explain why I
was spared by you."

"But that was my own affair; surely they cannot suspect us of any
collusion."

"You do not know my people as I do."

"But I am not the first white man that has shown mercy to a helpless
foe; they know that as well as you and I."

"You are waiting too long, Warren; they will soon be here," added the
warrior, with an apprehensive glance toward the ridge, from which his
people were approaching with alarming swiftness.

"Well, good-by, Starcus."

He grasped the left hand of the Sioux, who warmly returned the pressure
with the words, "Good-by, Warren."

Then Warren Starr, not a moment too soon, sprang into the saddle and
galloped away.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE LONE HORSEMAN.

The young rancher had calculated matters closely, for hardly was he in
the saddle when the foremost of the running Sioux halted, raised his
gun, and fired. He was nigh enough to make his shot dangerous, though
providentially it did no ill.

It was an inviting chance for Warren to return the fire with the best
prospect of doing so effectively. But he had