nly the thud of hoofs, but the
pursuing horsemen were very near.

Something whizzed through the air and instinctively he bent forward
almost flat on the neck of Old Jack. A coiling shape struck him on the
head, slipped along his back, then along the quarters of his horse and
fell to the ground. He felt as if a deadly snake had struck at him, and
then had drawn its cold body across him. But he knew that it was a
lasso. The Mexicans would wish to take him alive, as they might secure
valuable information from him. Now he heard them shouting to one
another, every one boasting that his would be the successful throw. As
Ned's rifle was empty, and he could not reload it at such speed, they
seemed to fear nothing for themselves.

He looked back. They numbered seven or eight, and they were certainly
very near. They had spread out a little and whenever Old Jack veered a
yard or two from the pursuers some one gained. He saw a coil of rope fly
through the air and he bent forward again. It struck Old Jack on the
saddle and fell to the ground. Ned wondered why they did not fire now,
but he remembered that their rifles or muskets, too, might be empty, and
suddenly he felt a strange exultation. He was still lying forward on his
horse's neck, and now he began to talk to him.

"On! On! Old Jack," he said, "show 'em the cleanest heels that were ever
seen in Texas! On! On! my beauty of a horse, my jewel of a horse! Would
you let miserable Mexican ponies overtake you? You who were never
beaten! Ah, now we gain! But faster! faster!"

It seemed that Old Jack understood. He stretched out his long neck and
became a streak in the darkness. A third Mexican threw his lasso, but
the noose only touched his flying tail. A fourth threw, and the noose
did not reach him at all.

They were far out on the plain now, where the moonlight revealed
everything, and the horse's sure instinct would guide. Ned felt Old Jack
beneath him, running strong and true without a jar like the most perfect
piece of machinery. He stole a glance over his shoulder. All the
Mexicans were there, too far away now for a throw of the lasso, but
several of them were trying to reload their weapons. Ned knew that if
they succeeded he would be in great danger. No matter how badly they
shot a chance bullet might hit him or his horse. And he could afford for
neither himself nor Old Jack to be wounded.

Once more the boy leaned far over on his horse's neck and cried in his
ear: