acks and saddles
till they were soaked--for the fire was ravaging the flat we had just
left, and showers of tiny sparks descended upon and around us. Thus
proof against the fiery baptism, though still half-strangled by the
smoke, our breathing a succession of coughs, we mounted and pushed
across.

The high water had abated and the river was now flowing at its normal
stage, some three hundred yards in width and nowhere swimming-deep on
the ford. We passed beyond spark-range and splashed out on a sand-bar
that jutted from the southern bank. Midway between the lapping water and
the brush that lined the edge of the flat, a dark object became
visualized in the shifting gray vapor. We rode to it and pulled up in
amaze. Patiently awaiting the pleasure of his master, as a good cavalry
horse should, was the bay gelding Hicks had ridden; and Hicks himself
sprawled in the sand at the end of the bridle-reins. I got down and
looked him over. He was not dead; far from it. But a bullet had scored
the side of his head above one ear, and he was down and out for the
time.

We stripped the pistol-belt off him, and a knife. At the same time we
rendered Bevans incapable of hostile movement by anchoring both hands
securely behind his back with a pack-rope. That done, Piegan's bleeding
arm came in for its share of attention. Then we held a council of war.

CHAPTER XXII.

SPEECHLESS HICKS.

When I spoke of holding a council of war, I did so largely in a
figurative sense. Literally, we set about reviving Hicks, with a view to
learning from him what had become of Lyn Rowan. He and Bevans
undoubtedly knew, and as Bevans persisted in his defiant sullenness,
refusing to open his mouth for other purpose than to curse us
vigorously, we turned to Hicks. A liberal amount of water dashed in his
face aided him to recover consciousness, and in a short time he sat up
and favored us with a scowl.

"What has become of that girl you took away from Baker's freight-train
yesterday morning?" MacRae dispassionately questioned.

Hicks glared at him by way of answer.

"Hurry up and find your tongue," MacRae prompted.

"I dunno what you're drivin' at," Hicks dissembled.

"You will know, in short order," MacRae retorted, "if you harp on that
tune. We've got you where we want you, and I rather think you'll be glad
to talk, before long. I ask you what became of that girl between the
time you knifed Goodell and this morning?"

Hicks started at men