brought to his shoulder, but, before it was
fired, the Indian dropped his head, dodged to one side, and vanished as
if by magic.

Where he had gone was a mystery to the Texan, whose steed checked
himself so suddenly that the rider was nearly thrown from his saddle.

There was so much noise and confusion that Gleeson could not hear
clearly, but something caused him to turn his head, under the impression
that he detected a movement near at hand.

He was just in time to catch a glimpse of the Comanche, darting through
the bush in a direction almost the opposite of that which he had been
following so long.

"How the mischief did you get there?" was the astonished exclamation of
the Texan, as he again brought his rifle to a level.

At the moment of doing so, he comprehended how it all came about. The
Comanche had darted directly under the mustang, doing so with a
quickness and skill that baffled the eye of his foe. Few, even of his
own people, could have performed the exploit which he executed with
perfection.

Ballyhoo Gleeson lowered his gun.

"You can go! I'll be hanged if you don't deserve to get away after
_that_ trick!"

CHAPTER XXII.

THUNDERBOLT.

Avon Burnet knew that when the cattlemen reached a point within a half
mile of his home, and the fire had not yet been started, that all danger
was over. It was beyond the power of the assailants, with the slight
time at their command, to harm the defenders.

Then naturally his thoughts turned to his mustang Thunderbolt, that had
been left in the mesquite bush with the animal belonging to his uncle.
The chances were that the Comanches had captured both, but he was not
without hope regarding his own pony.

The steed was so intelligent that he was certain to resist the approach
of a stranger at night, especially if he were an Indian. The redskins
were so occupied in trying to encompass the death of the Texan and his
family, besides being well supplied with their own steeds, that they
were not likely to put forth much effort to capture a single animal.

The youth was as eager as his companions to do his part in driving off
the red men, but the chance was denied him. The spare horse which he
rode, and which he put to his best pace, could not hold his own with the
rest, and consequently he arrived at the rear of the procession.

He glanced right and left, but caught the outlines of but one figure,
whose identity he suspected, because he was standing in