atted, gaunt, tall figure rushed from the
stable door, a shovel in its hand, straight between the girl and her
destruction. There he stood, with his partly weapon raised,
unflinching. An oath came to my lips and a hot spot to my throat at
the sight. No eye ever saw a braver thing.

At this, a dip in the ground and the eight-foot fence of the corral
shut out all within. God knows how we got over that fence. I swear I
think we leaped it. I have no memory of climbing, but I do recall
landing on the other side in a swoop.

Geronimo had old Charley in his teeth, shaking him like a rat.

"Steve!" I called, "Steve!" And then Oscar and I charged at the wicked
brute with our pitchforks. All that followed is a tangled, bad dream
of hurry, fear, yells, oaths, and myself stabbing, stabbing, stabbing
with the pitchfork. Then a gun cracked somewhere, a black mass toppled
toward me that knocked me sprawling--and all was still. I sat for a
moment, smiling foolishly and fumbling for my hat. Steve raised me by
the arm. He still had his revolver in his hand, and his glance on the
dead stallion. He asked me if I was hurt, and I said yes. He asked me
where, and I said that made no difference. Then, as I came to a little
more, I said I guessed I wasn't hurt, and looked around. Oscar had
Sally in his arms. The tears were running down his cheeks, and he
moved his head from side to side, like a man in agony. Her head was
buried in his breast, her hands locked around his neck. It was well
with them, evidently. But limp upon the ground, his forehead varnished
red, lay old Charley.

We turned him over tenderly, wiping the blood away. Steve's lips
quivered as he put his hand on the old man's heart. He kept it there a
long time. Then he said huskily, "He's gone!" At the words the sound
eye of the victim popped open with a suddenness that made my heart
throw a somersault. It was as sane, calm, and undisturbed an optic as
ever regarded the world.

"G-a-w-n H--l!" said Charley.

We laughed and wiped our eyes with our coat sleeves, and got the old
boy to his feet.

"Same old Texas," said he, feeling of his head (the hoof had scraped,
instead of smashing), "slightly disfiggered, but still in the ring."

He caught sight of the lovers. "Hello!" he said. "Oscar's made his
ante good at last--bad hawse works as well as Injuns." We started to
lead him by the pair.

"Naw, boys," he commanded. "Take me 'round 't'uther way.