ning of Burnet's approach and interposed
his steed between them. Despite the gloom on every hand, Avon read
aright the meaning of the almost imperceptible movement on the other
side of the saddle, and he slipped from the back of his mustang with a
celerity which, being displayed almost at the instant of the discharge
of the other weapon, looked as if it was the result of a fatal shot.

But, although the bullet so treacherously fired came near its mark, the
youth was not touched. His action was in the nick of time: a second
later could not have availed him.

He was incensed, as he had the best cause for being, and he resolved
that the miscreant should not escape him. His rifle was snatched from
its resting-place, and, stepping from behind Thunderbolt, he drew the
best bead possible on his foe.

The dexterity of the latter was marvellous. It was as if, at the very
instant of discharging his weapon, he had vaulted into the saddle, and,
wheeling the head of his horse away, sent him scurrying straight from
his intended victim.

Not only that, but, in accordance with the fashion of the frontier in
such emergencies, he flung himself forward on the neck of his animal, so
as to offer the least possible target to the other, who, if not hit
hard, was certain to return the shot.

The curious feature of the proceeding was that the man, having seen the
youth vanish from the back of his steed at the instant the gun was
discharged, did not assume that he was killed. Possibly such was his
supposition, and his hasty flight was partly due to his anxiety to place
himself beyond reach of his friends, who were likely to be drawn thither
by the sound of firing. His act in throwing himself upon the neck of his
mustang was simply in obedience to the rule which requires the
frontiersman to avail himself of every possible means of safety, even
when there is seemingly no call for it.

Despite the quickness of young Burnet, he was able to bring his
Winchester to a level only at the moment the steed was thundering out of
sight in the darkness, but he let fly three times in rapid succession,
reckless whether he struck rider or animal; but since the sound of the
hoofs still came to him, he was chagrined at the conviction that he had
missed both.

"But you haven't escaped me yet," he muttered, swinging himself into the
saddle; "there is no horse in Texas or the Indian Nation that can leave
me behind; now, Thunderbolt, run him down!"

But, whi