rs."

Past the hut at a distance a single horseman was riding, hotly spurring
the animal which bore him. At least a dozen dark-faced, fierce-looking
ruffians, mounted on hardy little ponies, were in pursuit.

As Professor Scotch had said, the fugitive was plainly an American, a
native of the United States. He had turned in the saddle to send bullets
whistling back at his pursuers.

Frank ran out and dropped on one knee. The professor followed him, and
Hans came from the hut.

Just as Frank lifted the rifle to his shoulder and was on the point of
shooting, the voice of Jack Burk sounded from the doorway, to which he
had dragged himself:

"It is Bushnell, my partner! Al! Al! Al Bushnell!"

His voice was faint and weak, and it did not reach the ears of the man
out on the plain.

Then Frank began shooting, and his first bullet brought down one of the
ponies of the pursuers, sending a bandit rolling over and over in the
dust, to leap up like a cat, and spring behind a comrade on the back of
another pony.

"Dot peen britty goot, Vrankie," complimented Hans Dunnerwust.

Again and again Frank fired, and the bandits quickly swerved away from
the hut, feeling their ponies sway or fall beneath them.

In an astonishingly brief space of time the course of pursuit was
deflected, giving the fugitive a chance to get away into Mendoza, which
lay at a distance of about three miles from the hut.

The man in flight heard the shots, saw the figures in front of the hut,
and waved his hand to them.

The professor excitedly beckoned for Bushnell to come to the hut, but
the horseman did not seem to understand, and he kept straight on toward
the town.

"Confound him!" exploded the professor. "Why didn't he come?"

"He don'd like a trap to run into," said Hans.

"But there is no trap here."

"How he known dot?"

"Well, I don't know as I blame him. Of course he could not be sure it
was not a trap, and so he was cautious."

Frank was calmly refilling the magazine of the rifle with fresh
cartridges.

"Why you didn't shoot some uf der pandits deat, Vrankie?" asked Hans.

"I do not wish to shed human blood if I can avoid it."

"You don't done dot uf you shoot six or elefen uf dose togs."

"Oh, they are human beings."

"Don't you belief me? Dey vos volves--kiotes."

"Well, I did not care to shoot them if I could aid the man in any other
way, and I succeeded. See, they have given up the pursuit, and the
fugitive is far aw