a moment, and
then, with pockets crammed to bursting, he sought out Melton, the
cattleman.

That individual, a grizzled weather beaten veteran of the plains,
listened with the liveliest sympathy and indignation. His eyes, beneath
his shaggy brows fairly blazed as Tom panted out the story.

"The dogs! The whelps!" he cried, as he brought down his gnarled fist
with a tremendous thump. "If I were only twenty years younger or a
hundred pounds lighter, I'd come with you myself. But I'd only hold you
back if I went on foot. But you'll see me yet," he went on savagely;
"I'll fix up things at Montillo as you ask, and then I'll get a horse and
come after you. I thought my fighting days were over, but I've still got
one good fight under my belt. Go ahead, my boy. You're the real stuff
and I wish I had a son like you. You make me proud of being an American.
I'll do my best to be in at the death, and God help those greasers if I
get them under my guns."

His warmth and eagerness proved that Bert had made no mistake in
enlisting him as their ally at this time of deadly need. With a fervent
word of thanks and a crushing hand grip, Tom leaped from the train and
sped back to the comrade who was impatiently awaiting him. A hurried
report of his mission and they were off on the trail.

What was at the end of that trail? Dick, alive or dead? Rescue or
defeat? A joyful reunion or graves for three? All they knew was that,
whatever awaited them, it was not disgrace. And they grimly pulled their
belts tighter and pressed forward.

As they climbed upward they came to an open space from which they had a
wide view of the surrounding country. As they looked back to the south,
they heard the faint whistle of the departing train and saw the thin veil
of smoke that it left behind. Not until that moment did they realize how
utterly alone they were. It was the snapping of the last link that bound
them to civilization. With the swiftness of a kaleidoscope their whole
life had changed. That morning, without the slightest idea of what fate
had in store for them, they had been together, exchanging jest and
banter; now one of their comrades was a captive in the power of desperate
brigands and they were on their way to save him or die with him. It was
a forlorn hope; but forlorn hopes have a way of winning out in this
world, where grit is at a premium, and although they were sobered at the
awful odds against them, they were not d