was so keenly on the alert that he was quick to notice
that they were ascending quite a swell in the plain. He drew the mustang
down to a walk, and when at the highest point of the elevation, brought
him to a stand-still.

No poor sailor, floating on a plank, ever strove harder to pierce the
gloom in quest of a friendly light, than did Avon. His first glance in
the direction which seemed to him to be right failed to show that which
he longed to see. Then he slowly swept the horizon with the same
searching scrutiny.

Not the first star-like glimmer rewarded him. Blank darkness enclosed
him on every hand. It was right above, below, to the right and left and
to the front and rear.

"Well, I'll be shot if this doesn't beat everything!" was his
exclamation, when he came to understand his helplessness; "it looks as
if I would have done the folks a great deal more good if I had stayed
with them."

Slipping down from the back of his mustang, which he took care to hold
by means of the halter, Avon pressed his ear to the earth, as is the
practice of those in a similar situation.

At first he thought he detected the sounds of hoofs, but the next moment
he knew it was only fancy. The better conductor in the form of the
ground told him no more than did the gloom that surrounded him.

While thus engaged, the mustang tugged at the rope, as if wishing to
free himself. He must have felt that he was controlled by a strange
hand, but his efforts were easily restrained.

As nearly as Avon could judge, he had travelled more than two miles
since leaving the cabin, so that, provided he had followed the proper
course, he must have passed half the distance. But if that were the
case, he ought to see signs of the camp. It is the custom of the
cattlemen, when on the move, to keep a lantern suspended from the front
of the provision wagon, to serve as a guide for the rest, and this ought
to be visible for several miles to one in his elevated position.

Holding the thong in one hand, the youth now pointed his Winchester
toward the sky and discharged several barrels, in the hope that the
reports would reach the ears of the Texans and bring a response from
them. The mustang did not stir a muscle; he was so accustomed to that
sort of thing that his nerves were not disturbed.

This appeal was equally futile, and, as Avon flung himself again upon
the back of his horse, a feeling akin to despair came over him.

"Perhaps it was quite an exploit