y to be
considerable before morning.

"Come in!" was the astonishing command the youth gave to his pony, who
stood looking at him, as if wondering what the next move was to be. The
situation was amusing, and not without its ludicrous side, with Warren
holding a match in one hand, his rifle in the other, and his heavy
blanket wrapped about his shoulders, beckoning and addressing the pony,
which hesitated for a minute at this unexpected invitation to share the
couch of his master.

But he was an obedient animal, and with some more sniffing and poking
forward of his nose, he stepped slowly forward until he was entirely
within the rude structure.

"Now lie down," added Warren, lighting another match, and Jack obeyed
with more promptness than before. Then the youth flung the broad, heavy
blanket over the pony so as to envelop as much of him as possible, lay
down close to the front of his body, adjusting the hoofs as best he
could, drew the rest of the covering over himself, and was excusable for
chuckling:

"Now, Jack, old fellow, what's to prevent us from sleeping as snug as a
bug in a rug! Hey, my boy?"

Everything promised well, but before either could fall asleep, they were
startled beyond measure by hearing someone moving outside. Whispering
to the horse to keep still, Warren slipped out from under the blanket
and moved softly to the opening, revolver in hand. As he did so, he ran
squarely against another person who was in the act of entering the place
of shelter.

CHAPTER IV.

TIM BROPHY'S DISCOVERY.

The letter which was delivered to Warren Starr by his mortally wounded
hound not only gave that young man definite news of the alarming events
in the neighborhood of his home, but has conveyed to the reader the
cause of the abrupt change in his plans and of the stirring incidents
which led to the hasty flight of the Starr family from their ranch on
the north of the Big Cheyenne River.

As stated in the note, it was Tim Brophy, the young Irishman, who made
the discovery in time to prevent the family being overwhelmed and
massacred. While Jared Plummer, the lank New Englander, rode to the
westward to look after some strays, Tim galloped north to attend to the
main herd, which was supposed to be cropping the abundant grass in the
neighborhood of several small streams and tributaries of the main
river.

Tim had been in the employ of Mr. Starr for three years, and had spent
most of his life in the West,