, snatched the knife from the
belt of the Ring Tailed Panther and slashed at him. Fortunately, the
range was somewhat long for such work, and, as the Panther threw up his
arm, the blade merely cut his buckskin sleeve from wrist to elbow, only
grazing his skin. Urrea, quick as lightning, turned his horse, threw him
against that of Obed which was staggered, and then started at a gallop
among the trees.

The Ring Tailed Panther raised his rifle, but Urrea threw himself behind
his horse, riding with all the dexterity of a Comanche in the fashion of
an Indian who wishes to protect himself; that is, hanging on the far
side of the horse by only hands and toes. The Panther shifted his aim
and shot the horse through the head. But Urrea leaped clear of the
falling body, avoided Obed's bullet, and darted into the thickest of the
bushes. As he disappeared a sharp, piercing whistle rose. Ned did not
have time to think, but when he heard the whistle, instinct warned him
that it was a signal. He had heard that whistle once before in exciting
moments, and by a nervous action as it were, he pulled hard upon the
reins of his horse. In this emergency it was the boy whose action was
the wisest.

"Come back, Obed, you and Panther!" he shouted. "He may have led us into
an ambush!"

Obed and the Ring Tailed Panther were still galloping after Urrea, and,
even as Ned shouted to them, a flash of flame burst from the
undergrowth. He saw Obed's horse fall, but Obed himself sprang clear.
The Panther did not seem to be hurt, but, in an instant, both were
surrounded by Mexicans. Obed was seized on the ground and the Panther
was quickly dragged from his horse. But the Maine man, even in such a
critical moment, did not forget the boy for whom he had such a strong
affection. He shouted at the top of his voice:

"Ride, Ned! Ride for your life!"

Ned, still guided by impulse, wheeled his horse and galloped away. It
was evident that his comrades had been taken, and he alone was left to
carry out their mission. Shots were fired at him and bullets whistled
past, but none touched him, and he only urged his horse to greater
speed.

The boy felt a second impulse. It was to turn back and fall, or be taken
with the two comrades whom he liked so well. But then reason came. He
could do more for them free than a captive, and now he began to take
full thought for himself. He bent far over on his horse's neck, in order
to make as small a target as possible, ho