ly to his feet, for he has been seated, at
the same time wringing from him a cry of peculiar signification.

"What is it, Mr Hamersley?" asks the Ranger Captain, who is close by
his side.

"My God!" exclaims the Kentuckian. "I'd forgotten. We must be off at
once, or we shall be too late--too late!"

Saying this, he makes a dash for the door, hurtling his way through the
crowd close standing between.

The Rangers regard him with glances of astonishment, and doubts about
his sanity. Some of them actually think he has gone mad!

One alone understands him--Walt Wilder; though he, too, seems demented.
With like incoherent speech and frantic gesture, he follows Hamersley to
the door.

Both rush outside; as they do so calling back, "Come on! come on!"

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.

INTO THE STORM.

Lightning flashes, thunder rolls, wind bellows, and rain pours down in
sheets, as if from sluices; for the storm is still raging as furiously
as ever. Into it have rushed the two, regardless of all.

The Texans are astounded--for a time some of them still believing both
men mad. But soon it is seen they are acting with method, making
straight for the horses, while shouting and gesticulating for the
Rangers to come after.

These do not need either the shouts or signs to be repeated. Walt's old
comrades know he must have reason, and, disregarding the tempest, they
strike out after. Their example is electric, and in ten seconds the
jacal is empty.

In ten more they are among their horses, drawing in the trail-ropes and
bridling them.

Before they can get into their saddles they are made aware of what it is
all about.

Hamersley and Walt, already mounted and waiting, make known to the
Ranger captain the cause of their hurried action, apparently so
eccentric. A few words suffice.

"The way out," says the Kentuckian, "is up yonder ravine, along the bed
of the stream that runs through. When it rains as it's doing now, then
the water suddenly rises and fills up the channel, leaving no room, no
road. If we don't get out quick we may be kept here for days."

"Yis, boys!" adds Wilder, "we've got to climb the stairs right smart,
rain or shine, storm or no storm. Hyar's one off for the upper storey,
fast as his critter kin carry him."

While speaking, he jobs his heels against the ribs of his horse--for he
is now mounted on one, as also Hamersley--supernumeraries of the Texan
troop. Then, dashing off, with the Kentuc