ack.

"Spoiled our night's rest, though," said Griggs dryly, "for there was no
sleep for fear of the redskins stealing by us in the dark and driving
off the cattle."

"Ah," said Chris, with a sigh. "My poor mustang!"

"Poor brute, yes," said Griggs. "It was a thousand pities. I liked
that pony. He made me jealous of you."

"Don't talk about him," said Chris quickly. "I tried so hard to save
him."

"You did, my lad; you did."

"How do you know?" said Chris, staring.

"How do I know? Why, didn't I tell you the redskins spoiled our night's
rest?"

"Yes."

"Well, that means we were all wide awake at daybreak."

"Then you saw all?" cried Chris.

"Why, certainly. Ned had the glass and was telescoping in all
directions up and down the valley, looking out for squalls, when he
suddenly made us all jump nearly out of our skins for joy by shouting
out, `There's Chris!'"

"And then you saw all that happened?"

"To be sure we did," said Griggs; "everything, and precious unpleasant
some of it was. It brought us into action pretty soon though, making us
hurry up towards the head of the valley here on the chance of getting a
good shot or two in amongst our savage friends."

Chris turned round and looked the American full in the face, but without
speaking.

"Well, what's the matter, lad? Smudgy with gunpowder? Oh, I've had no
time to wash this morning."

"Griggs," cried Chris excitedly, "who was it fired that shot?"

"Which one, my lad? We sent a good many flying."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, who was firing. Your father, of course."

"You're prevaricating, Griggs," cried Chris huskily. "Tell me at once
who fired that shot?"

"Which one? We tumbled two or three, or more, of the enemy down. So
did you. I heard your rifle crack, and saw them come off the cliff."

"No nonsense, Griggs; you know what I mean. I say, who fired that
shot?"

"And I say which one? There were so many."

"The one that saved my life."

"Oh, I see," cried the American; "that one. Well, I think it was either
me or the doctor, but we were in such a state of excitement that it's
doubtful."

"There, I was sure of it from the first," cried Chris, holding out his
hand; "it was you, Griggs."

"I don't say it was, and I don't say it wasn't, my lad," said the
American, turning away carelessly as if not seeing the extended hand;
"but look here, it was bad enough for you, that set-to with the
redskins; but it was all