and and beautiful country, full of towering
mountains, lovely valleys, and mighty trees."

About the middle of September the Indians became very troublesome
along the Sweetwater. Will was ambushed one day, but fortunately he was
mounted on one of the fleetest of the company's horses, and lying flat
on the animal's back, he distanced the redskins. At the relay station he
found the stock-tender dead, and as the horses had been driven off, he
was unable to get a fresh mount; so he rode the same horse to Plontz
Station, twelve miles farther.

A few days later the station boss of the line hailed Will with the
information:

"There's Injun signs about; so keep your eyes open."

"I'm on the watch, boss," was Will's answer, as he exchanged ponies and
dashed away.

The trail ran through a grim wild. It was darkened by mountains,
overhung with cliffs, and fringed with monster pines. The young rider's
every sense had been sharpened by frontier dangers. Each dusky rock
and tree was scanned for signs of lurking foes as he clattered down the
twilight track.

One large bowlder lay in plain view far down the valley, and for a
second he saw a dark object appear above it.

He kept his course until within rifle-shot, and then suddenly swerved
away in an oblique line. The ambush had failed, and a puff of smoke
issued from behind the bowlder. Two braves, in gorgeous war paint,
sprang up, and at the same time a score of whooping Indians rode out of
timber on the other side of the valley.

Before Will the mountains sloped to a narrow pass; could he reach
that he would be comparatively safe. The Indians at the bowlder were
unmounted, and though they were fleet of foot, he easily left them
behind. The mounted reds were those to be feared, and the chief rode
a very fleet pony. As they neared the pass Will saw that it was life
against life. He drew his revolver, and the chief, for his part, fitted
an arrow to his bow.

Will was a shade the quicker. His revolver cracked, and the warrior
pitched dead from his saddle. His fall was the signal for a shower of
arrows, one of which wounded the pony slightly; but the station was
reached on time.

The Indians were now in evidence all the time. Between Split Rock
and Three Crossings they robbed a stage, killed the driver and two
passengers, and wounded Lieutenant Flowers, the assistant division
agent. They drove the stock from the stations, and continually harassed
the Pony Express riders and