rth. He
still fought, and the captain, losing patience for the moment, forgot
the whistling missiles and gave his whole attention to the brute, which
he speedily conquered.

Avon was on the point of offering help, when he perceived that the
mustang was mastered, and he once more turned to the enemy, now pressing
his advantage to the utmost.

The Comanches were so close, and the opportunity for aiming effectively
was so good, that the shots of the youth began to tell. Had the red men
been compelled to maintain one position in front, a single person with a
repeating Winchester could have stood off the whole party; but, as has
been explained, the Indians were on every hand.

But Avon was not throwing away his cartridges. The very first shot bored
its way through the bronzed skull of a shrieking warrior, and the second
slew his pony with such suddenness that the two rolled together on the
plain, the warrior being unable to extricate himself from beneath his
struggling mustang.

The young man, finding no one in his immediate front, turned toward a
couple that were advancing from another point, but before he could make
his aim sure, he was shocked to hear a groan from Captain Shirril.

"Are you hit?" asked the nephew, turning his scared face toward him.

"Yes, but still able to do something; bring your horse to his feet and
make a dash for the camp. There isn't an earthly chance for us here."

"But I cannot leave you, uncle, and, if I could it would be impossible
to run the gauntlet."

"It's our only hope; my horse is too badly hurt to carry me off, but you
may succeed, if you ride hard."

"It won't do," replied the nephew, who, had the prospect been ten-fold
more favorable, could not have deserted his relative at such a time.

"Hurrah!" he exclaimed the next moment, "yonder come the boys!"

He had caught sight of their friends approaching over the ridge, their
animals on a dead run.

"They will be too late," said Captain Shirril, whose horse at that
moment received another shot and renewed his frantic struggles to regain
his feet. His owner interposed, but, he, too, was wounded and unable to
put forth the strength that had conquered the brute a moment before.

Avon would have gone to his help had there been anything to gain by it.

"Let him go," he said, "he can do you no good."

"Yes, he can and he _shall_."

As he spoke, the captain whipped out his revolver and drove a couple of
bullets through the brain