h interest his efforts to
escape, and who now welcomed him as if he had been one of themselves.

"Two months' pay for your horse, Major!" cried Clayley.

"Och, the bewtiful baste! He's worth the full of his skin in goold! By
my sowl! the capten ought to have 'im," ejaculated Chane; and various
other encomiums were uttered in honour of Hercules.

Meanwhile, his pursuers, not daring to approach the stockade, drew off
towards their comrades with gestures of disappointment and chagrin.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

RUNNING THE GAUNTLET.

I began to reflect upon the real danger of our situation--corralled upon
a naked prairie, ten miles from camp, with no prospect of escape. I
knew that we could defend ourselves against twice the number of our
cowardly adversaries; they would never dare to come within range of our
rifles. But how to get out? how to cross the open plain? Fifty
infantry against four times that number of mounted men--lancers at
that--and not a bush to shelter the foot-soldier from the long spear and
the iron hoof!

The nearest _motte_ was half a mile off, and that another half a mile
from the edge of the woods. Even could the motte be reached by a
desperate run, it would be impossible to gain the woods, as the enemy
would certainly cordon our new position, and thus completely cut us off.
At present they had halted in a body about four hundred yards from the
corral; and, feeling secure of having us in a trap, most of them had
dismounted, and were running out their mustangs upon their lazos. It
was plainly their determination to take us by siege.

To add to our desperate circumstances, we discovered that there was not
a drop of water in the corral. The thirst that follows a fight had
exhausted the scanty supply of our canteens, and the heat was excessive.

As I was running over in my mind the perils of our position, my eye
rested upon Lincoln, who stood with his piece at a carry, his left hand
crossed over his breast, in the attitude of a soldier waiting to receive
orders.

"Well, Sergeant, what is it?" I inquired.

"Will yer allow me, Cap'n, ter take a couple o' files, and fetch in the
Dutchman? The men 'ud like ter put a sod upon him afore them thievin'
robbers kin git at him."

"Certainly. But will you be safe? He's at some distance from the
stockade."

"I don't think them fellers 'll kum down--they've had enuf o' it just
now. We'll run out quick, and the boys kin kiver us with their fire.