of Urrea angered him. He forgot where he was and his
danger.

Urrea's swarthy face flushed. He carried in his hand a small riding
whip, which he switched occasionally across the tops of his tall,
military boots.

"Lout!" he cried. "You hear me! Why do you not obey!"

Ned stood impassive. Certainly Urrea had had a bad half hour somewhere.
His temper leaped beyond control.

"Idiot!" he exclaimed.

Then he suddenly lashed Ned across the face with the little riding whip.
The blow fell on serape and sombrero and the flesh was not touched, but
for a few moments Ned went mad. He dropped his rifle, leaped upon the
astonished officer, wrenched the whip from his hands, slashed him across
the cheeks with it until the blood ran in streams, then broke it in two
and threw the pieces in his face. Ned's serape fell away. Urrea had
clasped his hands to his cheeks that stung like fire, but now he
recognized the boy.

"Fulton!" he cried.

The sharp exclamation brought Ned to a realization of his danger. He
seized his rifle, pulled up the serape and sprang back. Already Mexican
soldiers were gathering. It was truly fortunate for Ned that he was
quick of thought, and that his thoughts came quickest when the danger
was greatest. He knew that the cry of "Fulton!" was unintelligible to
them, and he exclaimed:

"Save me, comrades! He tried to beat me without cause, and now he would
kill me, as you see!"

Urrea had drawn a pistol and was shouting fiery Mexican oaths. The
soldiers, some of them just awakened from sleep, and all of them dazed,
had gathered in a huddle, but they opened to let Ned pass. Excessive and
cruel punishment was common among them. A man might be flogged half to
death at the whim of an officer, and instinctively they protected their
comrade.

As the Mexican group closed up behind him, and between him and Urrea,
Ned ran at top speed toward the west where the arroyo cut across the
plain. More Mexicans were gathering, and there was great confusion.
Everybody was asking what was the matter. The boy's quick wit did not
desert him. There was safety in ignorance and the multitude.

He quickly dropped to a walk and he, too, began to ask of others what
had caused the trouble. All the while he worked steadily toward the
arroyo, and soon he left behind him the lights and the shouting. He now
came into the dark, passed beyond the Mexican lines, and entered the cut
in the earth down which he had come.

He was compelled t