his horse and bade her follow. The rain had ceased
for the time being, though evidently the storm was not yet over. The
tracks led up a wash to a wide flat where mesquite, prickly pear, and
thorn-bush grew so thickly that Jennie could not ride into it. Duane was
thoroughly concerned. He must have her horse. Time was flying. It would
soon be night. He could not expect her to scramble quickly through that
brake on foot. Therefore he decided to risk leaving her at the edge of
the thicket and go in alone.

As he went in a sound startled him. Was it the breaking of a branch
he had stepped on or thrust aside? He heard the impatient pound of
his horse's hoofs. Then all was quiet. Still he listened, not wholly
satisfied. He was never satisfied in regard to safety; he knew too well
that there never could be safety for him in this country.

The bay horse had threaded the aisles of the thicket. Duane wondered
what had drawn him there. Certainly it had not been grass, for there was
none. Presently he heard the horse tramping along, and then he ran. The
mud was deep, and the sharp thorns made going difficult. He came up
with the horse, and at the same moment crossed a multitude of fresh
horse-tracks.

He bent lower to examine them, and was alarmed to find that they had
been made very recently, even since it had ceased raining. They were
tracks of well-shod horses. Duane straightened up with a cautious glance
all around. His instant decision was to hurry back to Jennie. But he
had come a goodly way through the thicket, and it was impossible to rush
back. Once or twice he imagined he heard crashings in the brush, but
did not halt to make sure. Certain he was now that some kind of danger
threatened.

Suddenly there came an unmistakable thump of horses' hoofs off somewhere
to the fore. Then a scream rent the air. It ended abruptly. Duane leaped
forward, tore his way through the thorny brake. He heard Jennie cry
again--an appealing call quickly hushed. It seemed more to his right,
and he plunged that way. He burst into a glade where a smoldering fire
and ground covered with footprints and tracks showed that campers had
lately been. Rushing across this, he broke his passage out to the open.
But he was too late. His horse had disappeared. Jennie was gone. There
were no riders in sight. There was no sound. There was a heavy trail of
horses going north. Jennie had been carried off--probably by outlaws.
Duane realized that pursuit was ou