t of us uttered a yell of joy and relief. One of the men who had
been sleeping around the fire was McNally himself.

We drew together, explaining, congratulating. The strangers, six in
number, turned out to be travellers from the eastern side of the ranges.
They listened with interest and attention to our account of the Indian
attack. McNally explained that he had been uncertain of his route in the
dark; so that when he had caught sight of the fire he had made his way
to it. We were still engaged in this mutual explanation when we were
struck dumb by a long-drawn-out yell from the direction of our own
horses.

"It is Vasquez," explained Barry. "He wants to let us know where he is,"
and he answered the yell.

But at that moment one of our own horses dashed up to the bunch of
picketed animals and wheeled, trembling. Its rope bridle dangled broken
from its head. Sam Bagsby darted forward to seize the hanging cord.

"It's cut!" he cried. "Quick! Out across the valley, boys!"

We followed him into the moonlight, grasping our rifles. A moment later
a compact band swept toward us at full speed, our horses in the lead,
their rope halters dangling, a dozen Indians on horseback following
close at their heels and urging them on.

"Shoot, boys!" yelled Bagsby, discharging his own piece.

Our rifles cracked. It was impossible to take aim; and I am sure we hit
nothing. But the horses swerved aside from the long fiery flashes, and
so ran into the picketed lot and stopped. The Indians flew on through
our scattered line without stopping, pursued by a sputter of shots from
our Colt's revolvers.

"A while ago I was sorry we had to stop above camp," said Bagsby with
satisfaction; "but it was a lucky thing for us. They had to come by us
to git out."

"And Vasquez?" Yank struck across our exultation.

CHAPTER XXV

BATTLE

We had a good deal of trouble finding the exact spot where we had left
him, for we could get no answer to our calls. He was down in a heap,
covered with blood, and quite dead. The savages had scalped him. In our
long companionship we had grown very fond of him, for he was a merry,
good-natured, willing soul.

"God!" cried Bagsby, deeply moved. "I'll put a ball through the next one
of those devils I meet!"

We returned slowly to the fire, carrying the body, which we laid
reverently one side and covered with a blanket. In all our hearts burned
a fierce, bitter anger. Sullenly we turned to prepare our