s of a galloping horse, which, however, quickly
ceased. Then several whistle-like signals passed between the marauders,
and he was able to catch the murmur of voices within the cabin. The wife
and servant were talking together, and, though their words were low, the
open doors allowed the slight noise to reach the ears of the Texan,
without telling him what words were spoken.

Holding his position several minutes, he turned a little to the left and
crept along, until able to look over the low peak of the roof. He did
this by raising his head the few inches necessary to bring his eyes just
above the level.

Everything, so far as he could judge, was the same as before. The
smouldering in the cavity had died out, though the smoke was as pungent
as ever.

"Dinah could not have done her work more effectively, and a reasonable
person ought to be satisfied----"

His keen sense of hearing apprised him of a noise, slight but
significant, near him. His first thought was that it was in front, but
the next moment he knew it came from the rear. Turning his head in that
direction, without moving his body, he caught the outlines of a
Comanche's head at the lower corner of the roof behind him. It slowly
rose until the shoulders appeared, and no doubt remained that the Indian
was cautiously climbing upon the roof, to renew the attempt to set fire
to it.

CHAPTER XIII.

A DEAD RACE.

Avon Burnet was thunderstruck. When he supposed he was several miles
from the cabin of his uncle, he found himself directly in front of it,
and the Indian horse, upon which he relied to take him to the camp of
the cattlemen, had brought him to what might be called the mouth of the
lion's den.

Not only had the precious minutes been thrown away, but his peril was of
the most desperate nature.

Hardly had the pony halted, when a couple of figures loomed to view in
the darkness on the left, and one of them called to him in Comanche.
This told the youth that his identity was unsuspected by the red men,
whose view was too indistinct to distinguish him from one of their own
number. But they were coming toward him, and his broad sombrero must
reveal the truth the next instant.

Not a second was to be lost. They were almost upon him, when he wheeled
and urged his mustang to a dead run, throwing himself forward at the
same moment, in the usual way, to avoid the bullets that would be
whistling about him before he could pass beyond reach.

But th