custom, kissed his wife and babies good-by,
one of the visitors, an oldish man, coughed huskily, and said: "Blest if
I kin stan' this." They all rode off, Jack the merriest of all, waving
his hat till he was out of sight.

When we were clearing up the unusual quantity of dishes, Yik Kee
appeared at the end window and beckoned me. I followed him out. Ted was
with him. Behind the barn were the three horses saddled. Shep was with
them, released from confinement, where he had been secured from
following his master.

"Foller 'em," said Ted in an excited whisper. "Yik's afraid they're up
to something."

"What is it, Yik?" I said, sternly. "No fooling now."

For answer he twisted his long pig-tail around his neck, tying it under
his left ear in a significant manner.

"Hump, he hangee; stealee cow."

"Oh, Mary," I sobbed, remembering Gil Mead's visit, and his strange
actions, and dimly seeing what Yik Kee meant, "I must tell Mary," I
said, wildly.

"Hump, no," said Yik Kee. "Yellee sick," and he closed his eyes in a
die-away sort of manner. "Go now--too latee."

We mounted.

"Mother'll think we're gone to ride," said Ted, as we galloped over the
plains. He was deathly pale, poor little fellow, but he sat erect and
firm. I saw his father's big Colt's revolver sticking out of his pocket.
He was a determined boy. Even in my despair, in my wild hope that I
could save Jack by begging on my knees, that I could cling to him, that
they would have to kill me first, I could not help a smile at the
comical figure Yik Kee presented on horseback. His loose garments
flapped in the wind, his long pig-tail flew out behind, and he bobbed
up and down like a kernel of corn in a corn-hopper.

It was a soft, warm night, lighted only by the pale young moon and the
twinkling stars. We rode as fast as our horses could gallop. Shep was
close at our heels. Way ahead, when we reached the top of a little hill,
we saw the crowd of horsemen. They were riding toward Denver. We
galloped on with renewed zeal. They turned into a cross road leading to
Mead's ranch. On this road was a bridge over Dry Gulch, which was in the
spring a roaring torrent. Beyond the bridge, across the fields, was the
hay-stack of Mead, where was stored sufficient to feed his domestic
cattle through the winter. We at last reached the turn in the road. They
were three miles in advance, riding rapidly. Yik Kee stopped at the
turn. "Hump! Can't catchee. Hangee at bridge. You