ady emptied his revolver,
and the Redskins were continuing their flight.

"Frizzle me if it ain't Kiddie of the Camp!" cried Kearney, dismounting
and standing with his hands on his knees, staring at the fallen
Expressman. "Say, now, are you hurt bad, pardner? I seen your
riderless pony hustlin' along with that crowd of yellin' Injuns at its
heels. I guessed suthin' had sure happened t' yer, though it ain't a
regulation Express pony. Where 're you hurt? You're in luck if you
ain't killed right out."

[Illustration: "Frizzle me if it ain't Kiddie of the Camp!" cried
Kearney.]

"I'm in sure luck by your happening along," responded Kiddie, trying
with difficulty to move. "Say, if you c'n rip open that boot and
disentangle my sprained foot from that rotten saddle, I shall be
obliged. Then I reckon I c'n lie here while you ride along the trail
with your mails and send help, see?"

Alf Kearney demurred to the suggestion, but at once proceeded to
liberate Kiddie's foot, first cutting the stirrup-strap and then
ripping open the stout leather boot.

"Couldn't you manage ter mount behind me?" he questioned. "My pony's
fit ter carry us both, I guess. Like as not, Broken Feather and his
gang'll come back. You ain't anyways safe lyin' here, rain comin' on;
an' the sooner a doctor sees you the better."

"Broken Feather?" Kiddie repeated. "If that's the rustler wearin' the
war-bonnet and ridin' a piebald broncho, then he ain't liable ter come
back--not with my bullet in him. I didn't catch sight of his
face--didn't savee it was Broken Feather. No, Alf, thank you, I ain't
able ter mount. Leave me right here, hustle along with the Express,
and send help from your first relay station."

The long, weary night that followed was very dark, and the two men sent
along the trail to give help searched in vain for Kiddie in the driving
rain. They had brought a buckboard cart with them in which to carry
him home to Sweetwater Bridge.

They searched for hours, but even when they discovered some rain-washed
hoof prints it was too dark for them to follow the tracks. It was not
until daybreak that they found Kiddie asleep under his blanket, with
the saddle for a pillow and his arms, with their red shirt sleeves,
folded over his chest.

He awoke when they whistled. They ran up to him, afterwards bringing
along the buckboard, into which they tenderly lifted him. The jolting
of the cart was painful to him, but when at length