en heard a mile away. The steed which bore him
was an excellent one, and he had no fear of being overtaken by any of
them. He knew in what direction to take his flight, and away he sped
with his horse upon a dead run. He scarcely drew rein until daylight
broke over the prairie, when he found himself pursuing a direction
parallel with the river, and making good headway toward the point where
he hoped his own matchless Thundergust was awaiting him.

Hardynge scarcely halted during the greater portion of the next day,
except when his mustang required it, and shortly after the sun crossed
the meridian he was gratified at catching sight of the rolling prairie
and wooded hills where he had turned his horse loose nearly a week
before. While at a distance he gave utterance to several sharp whistles,
which produced the response he desired, the beautiful glossy mustang
galloping forth to meet him with every appearance of delight. The
creature had taken good care of himself during his absence, having
feasted upon the rich, succulent grass, and was in the best possible
condition.

Turning the Indian horse loose Tom bestowed no further attention upon
him, but leaped upon his favorite animal and galloped away to the rocks
where he had carefully concealed his saddle and riding gear and where
they had lain untouched while he was gone.

Just as he dismounted, his eye rested upon a piece of dried buffalo-skin
which was pinned against a tree, the inner side turned outward. The
first glance told him there was something unusual, and his curiosity led
him to approach and scan it closely. There was some writing scrawled
upon it, which he read with little difficulty. The words were startling
enough, and as the hunter finished them he exclaimed, in a frightened
undertone:

"Thunderation! can it be possible?"

CHAPTER V.

AN ALARMING MESSAGE.

As the scout rode his mustang up to the tree whereon the buffalo skin
was fastened, he read the following words:

"To Tom Hardynge:--The stage which left Santa Fe on the 10th inst.,
is due at Fort Havens between the 20th and 25th, _but it will never
reach there_. It has an escort of a dozen mounted soldiers, but
they can't save it. The Apaches have arranged to attack it near
Devil's Pass, which you know is about a hundred miles northeast
from this point, among the mountains. You can't do anything to help
it; but Ned Chadmund is with it, and his father, t