er the same turf. To the
spectators no two cohorts could present a _coup d'oeil_ more dissimilar.
Though about equal in numbers, the two bodies of men were unlike in
everything else--arms, dresses, accoutrements; even their horses having
but slight resemblance. The horsemen late upon the spot would seem
dwarfs beside those now occupying it, who in comparison might be
accounted giants.

Whatever the impression made upon the young prairie merchant by the
sight of the newly-arrived troop, its effect upon the ex-Ranger might be
compared to a shock of electricity, or the result that succeeds the
inspiration of laughing-gas.

Long before the first files have reached the centre of the cleared space
he has sprung to the door, pulled the bar back, slammed open the slabs,
almost smashing them apart, and rushed out; when outside sending forth a
shout that causes every rock to re-echo it to the remotest corner of the
valley. It is a grand cry of gladness like a clap of thunder, with its
lightning flash bursting forth from the cloud in which in has been pent
up.

After it some words spoken more coherently give the key to its jubilant
tone.

"Texas Rangers! Ye've jest come in time. Thank the Lord!"

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.

OLD ACQUAINTANCES.

Not necessary to say that the horsemen riding up to the ranche are
Captain Haynes and his company of Rangers. They have come up the canon
guided by Barbato.

Even more than they is the renegade surprised at seeing a house in that
solitary spot. It was not there on his last passing through the valley
in company with his red-skinned confederates, the Tenawas, which he did
some twelve months before. Equally astonished is he to see Walt Wilder
spring out from the door, though he hails the sight with a far different
feeling. At the first glance he recognises the gigantic individual who
so heroically defended the waggon-train, and the other behind--for
Hamersley has also come forth--as the second man who retreated along
with him. Surely they are the two who were entombed!

The unexpected appearance produces on the Mexican an effect almost
comical, though not to him. On the contrary, he stands appalled, under
the influence of a dark superstitious terror, his only movement being to
repeatedly make the sign of the Cross, all the while muttering Ave
Marias.

Under other circumstances his ludicrous behaviour would have elicited
laughter from the Rangers--peals of it. But their e