come by his relief. At all events, the wildness of his
exclamation in face of the force barring the trail was without
affectation.

"There is time? There is hope?"

"Yes! yes!" gasped Prather, as the men began to surround him.

"Why are you here? Why on his horse?"

"Leddy turned on me, too! I was fighting at Wingfield's side! We got two
of them before dark! Then I was wounded and couldn't see to shoot. And I
came for help. And you will be in time! He's in a good position!"

"I think you are lying!" said Galway.

"He couldn't help it!" said Bob Worther.

"How--how would I have his horse if he weren't willing?" protested
Prather, frantically.

"By stealing it, in keeping with your character!"

"Yes! On general principles we ought to--"

"I have a piece of rope!" called a voice from the rear.

"There isn't any tree. But we can drop him over the wall of a chasm!"

Spectral figures with set faces appallingly grim in the thin moonlight
pressed close to Prather.

"My God! No!" he pleaded, throatily. "We fought together, I tell you! We
drew lots to see which one should take the risk of riding through danger
to save the other!"

"Lying again!"

"Here's the rope! All we've got to do is to slip a noose over his head!"

"It's a clean piece of rope, isn't it?" said the Doge, in his mellow
voice. "I don't think it's worth while soiling a clean piece of
rope. Come! Taking his life is no way to save Jack's. Come, we are
losing time!"

"Right, Doge!" said the man with the rope. "But it is some satisfaction
to give him a scare."

"And take care of P.D.!" called another.

"Yes, if you founder Jack's pony you'll hear from us a-plenty!"

This was their adieu to John Prather, who was left to pursue his way in
safety to his kingdom, while they rode on, following a hard path at the
base of the range. Those with the best horses took the lead, while the
heavier men, including the Doge, whose weight was telling on their
mounts, fell to the rear. Mary was at the head, between Dr. Patterson and
Jim Galway.

The stars flickered out; the moon grew pale, and for a while the horsemen
rode into a wall of blackness, conscious of progress only by the sound of
hoof-beats which they were relentlessly urging forward. Then dawn flashed
up over the chaos of rocks, pursuing night with the sweep of its
broadening, translucent wings across the valley to the other range. The
tops of the cotton-woods rose out of the sparkling sea, floati