pain and blindness, that always impelled the suffering
beast towards the left, to slip past him on the right, reach the
incline, and scramble wildly up to the plain again. Here he ran
confusedly forward, not knowing whither--only caring to escape that
agonized bellowing, to shut out forever the accusing look of that huge
blood-weltering eye.

Suddenly he heard a distant angry shout. To his first hurried glance
the plain had seemed empty, but, looking up, he saw two horsemen rapidly
advancing with a led horse behind them--his own. With the blessed sense
of relief that overtook him now came the fevered desire for sympathy
and to tell them all. But as they came nearer he saw that they were
Gildersleeve, the scout, and Henry Benham, and that, far from sharing
any delight in his deliverance, their faces only exhibited irascible
impatience. Overcome by this new defeat, the boy stopped, again dumb and
dogged.

"Now, then, blank it all, WILL you get up and come along, or do
you reckon to keep the train waiting another hour over your blanked
foolishness?" said Gildersleeve savagely.

The boy hesitated, and then mounted mechanically, without a word.

"'Twould have served 'em right to have gone and left 'em," muttered
Benham vindictively.

For one wild instant Clarence thought of throwing himself from his
horse and bidding them go on and leave him. But before he could put his
thought into action the two men were galloping forward, with his horse
led by a lariat fastened to the horn of Gildersleeve's saddle.

In two hours more they had overtaken the train, already on the march,
and were in the midst of the group of outriders. Judge Peyton's face,
albeit a trifle perplexed, turned towards Clarence with a kindly,
half-tolerant look of welcome. The boy's heart instantly melted with
forgiveness.

"Well, my boy, let's hear YOUR story. What happened?"

Clarence cast a hurried glance around, and saw Jim, with face averted,
riding gloomily behind. Then nervously and hurriedly he told how he had
been thrown into the gully on the back of the wounded buffalo, and the
manner of his escape. An audible titter ran through the cavalcade.
Mr. Peyton regarded him gravely. "But how did the buffalo get so
conveniently into the gully?" he asked.

"Jim Hooker lamed him with a shotgun, and he fell over," said Clarence
timidly.

A roar of Homeric laughter went up from the party. Clarence looked up,
stung and startled, but caught a single gli