another Indian in Lang's service that Pete and
seven of his best shots had started for Agua Fria about the same time as
Jack, while the rest of the gang that had been left behind were making it
their business to cover the leader's absence. Distrusting Ignacio, they
locked him in a closet off the bar. In the early hours of the morning he
succeeded in escaping with his news, which he carried first to Mary. She
was not asleep when he rapped at her door. It had been a night of
wakefulness for her, recalling the night after her meeting with Jack on
the pass before the duel in the _arroyo_.

"I for Senor Don't Care, now! I for every devil in him! And they go to
kill him!" was the incoherent way in which he began his announcement.

In an hour the alarm had travelled from house to house. While the gang
slept at Lang's or in their tents, a solemn cavalcade set forth quietly
into the night, with rifles slung over their shoulders or lying across
the pommels of their saddles, bound to rescue Jack Wingfield. They had
protested against Mary's going with all the old, familiar arguments that
occur to the male at thought of a woman in physical danger.

"It is the least that any of us can do," she declared.

"But of what service will you be?" Dr. Patterson asked.

"No one can say yet," she replied. "And no one shall stop me!" She was
driven by the same impulse that had sent her across the _arroyo_ in face
of the ruffians on the bank to Jack's side after he was wounded. "My pony
can keep up with the best of yours," she added.

Leddy had eight hours' start on a two-days' journey. It was not in
horse-flesh to gain much on his fast and hardened ponies. There was
little chance that Jack could hold out against such odds as he must face,
even if he had escaped an ambush. So they rode in desperation and in
silence, each too certain of what was in the minds of the others to make
pretence of a hope that was not in the heart.

Their only stop for rest was at Las Cascadas in the hot hours of midday.
Darkness had fallen when they overtook a solitary horseman coming from
Agua Fria. John Prather drew rein well to one side of the trail. He had
a moment, as they approached, in which to think out his explanation of
his position.

"It's Prather, and riding P.D.!" Galway announced.

"Where is Jack Wingfield?" came the merciless question as in one
voice from all.

"You are his friends! You have come to rescue him!" Prather cried.

He seemed over