st speed, but
the impetuous Gleeson maintained his place in front, and thundered up
the slope as if his own life were at stake. Before he struck the crest,
he rose in his box-stirrups and peered over at the plain beyond.

"Just what I expected!" he exclaimed, "and that Shackaye has done it!"

It was not necessary to explain, for, before he could have done so, his
comrades caught sight of the stirring scene which thrilled their leader.
Captain Shirril and his nephew were standing off a party of dusky
assailants, who were pressing them hard. The two mustangs were plainly
seen, while the flashes of the Winchesters from behind them told the
story as eloquently as if the cowboys were actual participants in the
affray.

Not another word was uttered by the latter, but pressing their spurs
deep into the flanks of their horses they sent them with arrowy haste
straight toward the spot. They had hardly reached the base of the slope
when they held their breath, for they saw the crisis had come. The red
men were closing around the two combatants as if they realized that
whatever was to be accomplished must be done within the succeeding few
seconds.

Half the distance was passed, when the Comanches were observed scurrying
toward a mass of hills hardly a half-mile distant. They rode so closely
that the cowboys failed to note the momentous fact that they bore a
prisoner with them.

In such emergencies a party of American Indians generally manage to
carry off their dead and wounded, but the haste was too urgent in this
case. The stark figures were left stretched on the prairies where they
had fallen, and a number of animals also lay motionless near. The
wounded were taken care of, but the dead were left to bury the dead.

The cowboys discharged a score of shots at the Comanches, but the
distance was too great to accomplish anything, and, seeing that it was
impossible to overtake them before they reached the shelter of the
wooded hills, Gleeson led the party toward the spot where they believed
their friends needed instant care.

The prostrate horses, and a partial glimpse of a figure lying between
them, caused the rescuers to believe that the captain and his nephew
were either slain outright or badly hurt.

The approaching mustangs kept up their run until they were thrown on
their haunches with such suddenness that the shock seemed to fling the
riders from their saddles. They leaped forward, and vigorous arms
quickly lifted the