ly. The healthy brown of his face had
gone gray; his eyes were like blue steel. He looked at Rita, and met her
eyes fixed on him in a mute anguish of entreaty.

"Have no fear!" he said. "It shall be as it would with my own sister. I
know these men; they shall not touch you alive."

He bent once more over the struggling beast, and even in his agony
Aquila knew his master, and turned his eyes lovingly toward him,
expecting help; and help came.

"Good-bye, lad!" The pistol cracked, and the tortured limbs sank into
quiet.

"Lie down behind him!" Delmonte commanded. "So! now, still."

He knelt behind the dead horse, facing the advancing Spaniards. The
revolver cracked again, and the foremost horseman dropped, shot through
the head. The troop was now close upon them; Rita could see the fierce
faces, and the gleam of their wolfish teeth. Delmonte fired again, and
another man dropped, but still the rest came on. There was no help,
then?

Delmonte looked at Rita; she closed her eyes, expecting death. The air
was full of cries and curses. But--what other sound was that? Not from
before, but behind them--round the turn of the road--some one was
singing! In all the hurry of her flying thoughts Rita steadied herself
to listen.

"For it's whoop-la! whoop!
Git along, my little dogies;
For Wyoming shall be your new home!--

"What in the Rockies is going on here, anyhow?"

Rita turned her head. A horseman had come around the bend, and checked
his horse, looking at the scene before him. A giant rider on a giant
horse. The moon shone on his brown uniform, his slouched felt hat, and
the carbine laid across his saddle-bow. Under the slouched hat looked
out a bronzed face, grim and bearded, lighted by eyes blue as Delmonte's
own.

Rita gave one glance. "Help!" she cried, "America, help!"

"America's the place!" said the horseman. He waved his hand to some one
behind him, then put his horse to the gallop. Next instant he was beside
them.

Delmonte started to his feet, revolver in hand. "U. S. A.?" he said.
"You're just in time, uncle. I'm glad to see you."

"Always like to be on time at a party," said the rough rider, levelling
his carbine. "My fellows are--in short, here they are!"

There was a scurry of hoofs, a shout, and thirty horsemen swept around
the curve and came racing up.

"What's up, Cap'n Jim?" cried one. "Have we lost the fun? Gringos, eh?
hooray!"

The Spaniards had checked their