and eagerly before they noticed
that the pool was strongly impregnated with salt. Many streams in
those parts of the prairies are quite salt, but fortunately this one
was not utterly undrinkable, though it was very unpalatable.

"We'll make it better, lads," said Joe, digging a deep hole in the
sand with his hands, a little below the pool. In a short time the
water filtered through, and though not rendered fresh, it was,
nevertheless, much improved.

"We may light a fire to-night, d'ye think?" inquired Dick; "we've not
seed Injuns for some days."

"P'r'aps 'twould be better not," said Joe; "but I daresay we're safe
enough."

A fire was therefore lighted in as sheltered a spot as could be found,
and the three friends bivouacked as usual. Towards dawn they were
aroused by an angry growl from Crusoe.

"It's a wolf likely," said Dick, but all three seized and cocked their
rifles nevertheless.

Again Crusoe growled more angrily than before, and springing out of
the camp snuffed the breeze anxiously.

"Up, lads! catch the nags! There's something in the wind, for the dog
niver did that afore."

In a few seconds the horses were saddled and the packs secured.

"Call in the dog," whispered Joe Blunt; "if he barks they'll find out
our whereabouts."

"Here, Crusoe, come--"

It was too late; the dog barked loudly and savagely at the moment,
and a troop of Indians came coursing over the plain. On hearing the
unwonted sound they wheeled directly and made for the camp.

"It's a war party; fly, lads! nothin' 'll save our scalps now but our
horses' heels," cried Joe.

In a moment they vaulted into the saddle and urged their steeds
forward at the utmost speed. The savages observed them, and with an
exulting yell dashed after them. Feeling that there was now no need
of concealment, the three horsemen struck off into the open prairie,
intending to depend entirely on the speed and stamina of their horses.
As we have before remarked, they were good ones; but the Indians soon
proved that they were equally well if not better mounted.

"It'll be a hard run," said Joe in a low, muttering tone, and looking
furtively over his shoulder. "The varmints are mounted on wild
horses--leastways they were wild not long agone. Them chaps can
throw the lasso and trip a mustang as well as a Mexican. Mind the
badger-holes, Dick.--Hold in a bit, Henri; yer nag don't need drivin';
a foot in a hole just now would cost us our scalps. Keep down b