ted his jacket to protect his face from the scorching heat.
There was certainly no time to lose in any exchange of compliments.
Already, the flames were closing in; in five minutes more they would
seal every avenue of escape.

"I 'm Brant, Lieutenant Seventh Cavalry," he cried, choking with the
thickening smoke. "My troop has scattered those fellows who were
hunting you. I 'll protect you and your prisoner, but you 'll have to
get out of there at once. Can you locate me and make a dash for it?
Wrap your coats around your heads, and leave your guns behind."

An instant he waited for the answer, fairly writhing in the intense
heat, then Mason shouted, "Hampton 's been shot, and I 'm winged a
little; I can't carry him."

It was a desperately hard thing to do, but Brant had given his promise,
and in that moment of supreme trial, he had no other thought than
fulfilling it. He ripped off his jacket, wrapped it about his face,
jammed a handkerchief into his mouth, and, with a prayer in his heart,
leaped forward into the seemingly narrow fringe of fire in his front.
Head down, he ran blindly, stumbling forward as he struck the ore-dump,
and beating out with his hands the sparks that scorched his clothing.
The smoke appeared to roll higher from the ground here, and the
coughing soldier crept up beneath it, breathing the hot air, and
feeling as though his entire body were afire. Mason, his countenance
black and unrecognizable, his shirt soaked with blood, peered into his
face.

"Hell, ain't it!" he sputtered, "but you're a dandy, all right."

"Is Hampton dead?"

"I reckon not. Got hit bad, though, and clear out of his head."

Brant cast one glance into the white, unconscious face of his rival,
and acted with the promptness of military training.

"Whip off your shirt, Mason, and tie it around your face," he
commanded, "Lively now!"

He bound his silk neckerchief across Hampton's mouth, and lifted the
limp form partially from the ground. "Help me to get him up. There,
that will do. Now keep as close as you can so as to steady him if I
trip. Straight ahead--run for it!"

They sprang directly into the lurid flames, bending low, Brant's hands
grasping the inert form lying across his shoulder. They dashed
stumbling through the black, smouldering lane beyond. Half-way down
this, the ground yet hot beneath their feet, the vapor stifling, but
with clearer breaths of air blowing in their faces, Brant tripped and
fe