omotive on a Missouri railroad, and the man looked tenderly at the
boy, as he recalled the incidents of that night. For an hour they rode
in silence, their panting steeds maintaining a shambling gait through
the sand, that was neither a trot nor a lope, but a mixture of the two.
Then they dropped into a walk, and, for another hour, were only roused
to greater speed by infinite exertions on the part of their riders. At
last Senor stumbled heavily, recovered himself, and then fell.

"There is no use trying to get him up again," said the chief. "I'm
afraid the poor old horse is done for; but you must ride on, and I will
follow on foot. Head for that dark space. It marks a valley. I shall not
be far behind you. If you find water, fire your pistol. The sound will
give me new strength. Good-bye, and may God prosper you."

[Illustration: "'HEAD FOR THAT DARK SPACE. IT MARKS A VALLEY.... IF YOU
FIND WATER, FIRE YOUR PISTOL.'"]

"But I hate to leave you, sir."

"Never mind me; hurry on. A moment wasted now may be at the price of a
life."

So Glen went on alone, trying, in husky tones, to encourage his brave
little mare, and urge her to renewed efforts. She seemed to realize that
this was a struggle for life, and responded nobly. She even broke into a
lope, as the ground became harder. The sand was disappearing. Water
might be nearer than they thought.

Five miles farther Nettle carried her rider, and then she staggered
beneath his weight. She could not bear him a rod farther, and he knew
it. A choking sob rose in the boy's parched throat as he dismounted and
left her standing there, the plucky steed that had brought him so far
and so faithfully; but he could not stay with her, he must go on. He
could see the opening to the valley plainly now, though it was still
some miles away; and, summoning all his strength, he walked towards it.

At half the distance he was skirting a foot-hill, when down its gravelly
side, directly towards him, rushed two animals, like great dogs. They
were mountain-wolves at play, one chasing the other, and they came on,
apparently without seeing him. When, with a hoarse cry, he attracted
their attention, they stopped, and, sitting on their haunches, not more
than a couple of rods away, gazed at him curiously.

He dared not fire at them, for fear of only wounding one and thus
arousing their fury. Nor did he wish to raise false hopes in the mind of
General Elting, who might hear the shot and think i