king of
prisoners this time. Even at this critical moment he reflected grimly,
and with a certain satisfaction, upon the difficulty the Indians would
find in getting a scalp off of his shaven head.

All this riding and shooting and thinking had been done so rapidly that
it was not two minutes from the time of that first tell-tale
mirror-flash before Nettle had borne her rider to the top of the ridge,
and he could see the wagon-train, not a quarter of a mile from him.

Binney Gibbs was already half-way to it; and, as Glen caught sight of
him, he was amazed at a most extraordinary performance. Binney suddenly
flew from his saddle, not over his mule's head, as though the animal had
flung him, but sideways, as though he had jumped. Whether he left the
saddle of his own accord or was flung from it the effect was the same;
and the next instant he was sprawling at full length on the soft grass,
while the mule, relieved of his weight, was making better time than ever
towards the wagons.

Glen had left the trail, thinking to cut off a little distance by so
doing; and, a few moments after Binney's leap into the air, he performed
almost the same act. On his part it was entirely involuntary, and was
caused by one of Nettle's fore-feet sinking into a gopher burrow that
was invisible and not to be avoided.

As horse and boy rolled over together, a cry of dismay came from one
side, and a wild yell of exultation from the other.

Chapter XXIII.

FIGHTING THE FINEST HORSEMEN IN THE WORLD.

It did not take many seconds for both Glen and Nettle to scramble to
their feet after the tremendous header caused by the gopher-hole. Badly
shaken though he was, the boy managed to regain his saddle more quickly
than he had ever done before. But seconds are seconds; and, in so close
a race for the most valuable of all earthly prizes, each one might be
worth a minute, an hour, or even a lifetime. Glen had not more than
regained his seat, before the foremost of his pursuers, who had far
outstripped the other, was upon him. With an empty rifle, Glen had not
the faintest hope of escape this time, though Nettle sprang bravely
forward. He involuntarily cringed from the expected blow, for he had
caught a fleeting glimpse of an uplifted tomahawk; but it did not come.
Instead of it, he heard a crash, and turned in time to see the Indian
pony and its rider pitch headlong, as he and Nettle had done a minute
before. They were almost beside him; an