floor of the defile was
covered with large, loose stones, over which Spraddle was continually
stumbling, for he had come a long way and was tired, besides the added
weight of the Indian was more than he was accustomed to carry.

It had grown very dark, and Dick could not see the pony's ears when he
twisted around to look past the Indian.

He knew that it was to be a moonlight night, but the moon was not up
yet, and would not be for an hour or more. In fact, it was doubtful if
the light of the moon would penetrate to the bottom of the defile until
it was high in the heavens, so deep was the defile and so steep its
walls.

Dick had given up wondering and worrying, and had forced himself to be
content with his situation, as he knew that he could not better it any.

Suddenly he became aware that the Indian was asleep, for he was drooping
in the saddle, and was breathing deeply and steadily.

Now, thought Dick, was the time to escape, if any. He tried to slip from
the pony's back, but in an instant the Indian was awake, and, reaching
around, grasped Dick's wrist, twisting it until the boy gave a sharp cry
of pain.

The Indian slipped from the back of the pony, and again bound Dick's
wrists behind him, and with a grunt climbed into the saddle and urged
Spraddle on, slapping him across the face with the end of the rein.

"Don't you do that," cried Dick, who never abused Spraddle himself, and
couldn't stand it to see any one else, particularly a dirty Indian, beat
his pet.

"White boy shut up, or Pokopokowo beat him plenty," growled the Indian.

"If you dare beat me, Ted Strong will fix you when he gets you," said
Dick hotly.

But the Indian only laughed, and continued to beat poor Spraddle over
the face, to the pain and anger of Dick, who, however, realized that he
was absolutely helpless.

But Pokopokowo was soon to be paid for his cruelty, and by poor Spraddle
himself.

Spraddle, stung by the blows, was stumbling along at a good pace over
the bowlders that lay in his way, with the Indian urging him faster all
the time.

Suddenly there was a great heave. Spraddle went down, almost turning a
somersault, as his tired feet struck a larger bowlder than he had
encountered before.

The Indian, who was dozing again, shot over his head as if from a
catapult, and Dick went sprawling forward over the saddle onto the neck
of the pony.

Fortunately, the pony righted itself in time to save Dick from a hard
fall, and