zards--a
large flock. They flout the air in sportive flight, their instinct
admonishing them that the two parties are hostile, and likely to spill
each other's blood.

About the two sets of birds what will both sides be saying? For, high
in heaven, both must long since have observed them. From their presence
what conjectures will they draw?

So Clancy questions, answering himself:

"Borlasse will suppose the flock afar to be hovering over my head; while
Woodley may believe the other one above my dead body!"

Strange as it may appear, just thus, and at the same instant, are the
two leaders interpreting the sign! And well for the result Clancy
desires; since it causes neither to command halt or make delay. On the
contrary impels them forward more impetuously. Perceiving this, he
mechanically mutters:

Thank the Lord! They must meet now! Curbing his impatience, as he best
can, he continues to watch the mutually approaching parties. At the
head of the colonists he now sees Sime Woodley, recognises him by his
horse--a brindled "clay-bank," with stripes like a zebra. Would that he
could communicate with his old comrade, and give him word, or sign of
warning. He dares not do either. To stir an inch from behind the rock,
would expose him to the view of the robbers, who might still turn and
retreat.

With heart beating audibly, blood, coursing quick through his veins, he
watches and waits, timing the crisis. It must come soon. The two
flocks of vultures have met in mid-air, and mingle their sweeping
gyrations. They croak in mutual congratulation, anticipating a splendid
repast.

Clancy counts the moments. They cannot be many. The heads of the
horsemen already align with the tufts of grass growing topmost on the
ridge. Their brows are above it; their eyes. They have sighted each
other!

A halt on both sides; horses hurriedly reined in; no shouts; only a word
of caution from the respective leaders of the troops, each calling back
to his own. Then an interval of silence, disturbed by the shrill
screams of the horses, challenging from troop to troop, seemingly
hostile as their riders.

In another instant both have broken halt, and are going in gallop over
the plain; not towards each other, but one pursuing, the other pursued.
The robbers are in retreat!

Clancy had not waited for this; his cue came before, soon as they caught
sight of one another. Then, vaulting into his saddle, and calling
Jupite