shut him up in jail again."

The first stinging drops of rain dashed in their faces and they
buttoned their coats and galloped on in silence. Tuttle was the first
to speak again:

"What's that scrub Wellesly doing out here?"

"I don't know, unless he came to bring 'em some brains. They need some
bad enough. Wellesly and Colonel Whittaker have been ridin' around
over the range for the last two or three days, though I didn't know
about it till yesterday. I guess they've been so everlastingly beaten
on every proposition that he thought he'd better come out himself and
see if he couldn't save the day for 'em on something."

They hurried on in the trail of the roar from the stampeding herd, but
suddenly Ellhorn's horse struck his fore feet on the slope of a wet
and slippery mound beside a prairie dog's hole. Before the animal
could recover, its feet slid down the bank into the mouth of the hole
with a forward jerk, and it came down with a groaning cry of pain.
Ellhorn rose to his feet in the stirrups, and as the horse struck the
ground he stood astride its body and with a quick leap jumped to one
side unhurt. By the light of a match, which Tuttle sheltered under his
sombrero, standing bareheaded, meanwhile, with the rain running in
streams down his neck, Ellhorn examined the fallen horse.

"He's broke both his forelegs, Tom. There's only one thing to do with
him, now."

Tuttle stroked the beast's nose. "I reckon so, Nick. You-all better do
it." Then he turned away, while Ellhorn put his revolver to the
horse's head and ended its pain.

"Now, Tom, you go on after Emerson as fast as you can and I'll hoof it
back to camp and get Bob's horse."

"No, you-all jump on behind me, Nick, and we'll go on together.
Emerson will need us both in the morning. If that crowd gets after him
maybe he can stand 'em off till we-all get there. But he'll need us by
daylight, Nick."

"I 'low you're right, Tommy, but ain't you on that horse that always
bucks at double?"

"Yes, but I reckon he'll have to pack double, if you and me fork him."

"You bet he will!" and Ellhorn leaped to the horse's back behind
Tuttle. "Whoo-oo-ee-ee!" Two pairs of spurs dug the horse's flank and
a rein as tight as a steel band held its head so high that bucking was
impossible. The horse jumped and danced and stood on its hind legs and
snorted defiance and with stiffened legs did its best to hump its back
and dismount its unwelcome double burden. It might as