n his
tracks.

"What was that?" he whispered, as he grasped Tom's arm.

"I don't hear anything," returned Tom.

"I did. Listen."

They stood like stones, scarcely venturing to breathe. Then Tom, too,
caught the sound. It was the faint, far-off tramp of horses. Bert threw
himself down with his ear to the ground. A moment later he jumped to his
feet.

"Three horses at least," he said quickly. "Get in the shadow of the rock
and have your gun ready."

They crouched down where it was blackest and strained their eyes along
the road up which they had come. Nearer and nearer came the cautious
tread, and their fingers fidgeted on the trigger. Then a faint blur
appeared on the moonlit path. Another moment and it resolved itself into
a burly figure riding a wiry broncho and leading two others. The
moonlight fell full on his rugged face and the boys gave a simultaneous
gasp.

"Melton!" they cried, as they rushed toward him.

At the first sound, the newcomer had grasped a carbine that lay across
his saddle, and in a flash the boys were covered. Then, as he recognized
them, he lowered the weapon and grinned delightedly. In another second
he was on the ground and his hands were almost wrung off in frantic
welcome.

"Guessed it right the first time," he chuckled. "Melton sure enough.
You didn't think I was bluffing, did you, when I said I'd come? If I'd
left you two young fellows to make this fight alone, I could never have
looked a white man in the face again. We Americans have got to stick
together in this God-forsaken country. It's a long time since I've
ridden the range and taken pot-shots at the greasers, but I guess I
haven't forgotten how. But now let me get these bronchos hobbled and
then we'll have a gabfest."

With the deftness of an' old frontiersman, he staked out the horses where
the grazing was good, and then the three sought the shelter of the rock.
The boys were jubilant at this notable addition to their forces. His
skill and courage and long experience made him invaluable. And their
hearts warmed toward this comparative stranger who had made their quarrel
his, because they were his countrymen and because he saw in them a spirit
kindred to his own. Not one in a thousand would have left his business
and risked his life with such a fine disregard of the odds against him.
Up to this time they had had only a fighting chance; now they were
beginning to feel that it might be a winning chance.