made a short time before.

[Illustration: THE LAST STAND.]

The warriors were armed with excellent rifles, and belonged to a tribe
that is unsurpassable in horsemanship. Several had blankets on their
mustangs, but most were without even that protection, being bareback,
while few possessed anything in the nature of a bridle. The well-trained
steeds, as we have shown, were perfectly managed by word and touch, and
often seemed to divine the wishes of their riders, without word or
movement on their part.

But, daring as were the latter, they knew the peril involved in
assailing two well-armed white men at bay. They continued their rapid
galloping at a safe distance, some of them describing a complete circle
around the couple, who were quietly awaiting the chances for effective
work.

Before long the assailants began operations. Hardly one retained an
upright position on his steed for more than a few seconds at a time.
They flung themselves forward, as if in wantonness, their painted faces
appearing below their horses' necks, with their long black hair
streaming away, as if it were a part of the mane of their steeds. Then
they extended themselves seemingly along the spine of their animals, as
if for slumber in the sun. While the steeds sped back and forth, the
riders lolled here and there on their backs, as though it was impossible
for them to lose their balance. Trying as were the circumstances,
Captain Shirril could not help admiring the equestrian exhibition, which
could not have been excelled.

But he quickly proved that he meant business of the most serious kind.
He fixed his attention on one of the half-naked miscreants, who was not
only nearer than any of his companions, but kept edging closer. For a
time, he maintained himself on the further side of his mustang, seeming
to hold himself in place by the toe of one of his moccasins thrust over
the spine at the haunches, with hardly less significant help from a hand
at the base of the neck.

When the horse wheeled to return over his own trail, as he frequently
did, the matchless rider, with a grace that was inimitable, swung
himself over in a corresponding position on the other side, so as to
preserve the body of his steed as a shield.

Without warning, he discharged his rifle from beneath the neck of the
animal, and the excellence of his aim was proven by the whiz of the
bullet near the head of Captain Shirril.

But the latter was not disturbed. He was biding