r Frank appeared, riding out of the cedars. The Indian
riders closed rapidly in on him, shooting all the time. His horse
was hit, and stumbling, it almost threw the rider. Then the horse ran
wildly--could not be controlled. One Indian was speeding from among the
others. He had a bow bent double, and suddenly it straightened. Allie
saw dust fly from Frank's back. He threw up his arms and slid off
under the horse, the saddle slipping with him. The horse, wounded and
terrorized, began to plunge, dragging man and saddle.

Ahead, far to the right, Fresno was gaining on his pursuers. He was
out of range now, but the Indians kept shooting. Then Allie's situation
became so perilous that she saw only the Indians to the left, with their
mustangs stretched out so as to intercept her before she got out into
the wider valley.

Her mustang did not need to be goaded. The yells behind and on all
sides, and the whistling bullets, drove him to his utmost. Allie had all
she could do to ride him. She was nearly blinded by the stinging wind,
yet she saw those lithe, half-naked savages dropping gradually back and
she knew that she was gaining. Her hair became loose and streamed in the
wind. She heard the yells then. No more rifles cracked. Her pursuers had
discovered that she was a girl and were bent on her capture.

Fleet and strong the mustang ran, sure-footed, leaping the washes, and
outdistancing the pursuers on the left. Allie thought she could turn
into the big valley and go down the main trail before the Indians
chasing Fresno discovered her. But vain hope! Across the width of the
valley where it opened out, a string of Indians appeared, riding back to
meet her.

A long dust line, dotted with bobbing objects, to the right. Behind a
close-packed bunch of hard riders. In front an opening trap of yelling
savages. She was lost. And suddenly she remembered the fate of her
mother. Her spirit sank, her strength fled. Everything blurred around
her. She lost control of the mustang. She felt him turning, slowing, the
yells burst hideously in her ears. Like her mother's--her fate. A roar
of speedy hoof-beats seemed to envelop her, and her nostrils were filled
with dust. They were upon her. She prayed for a swift stroke--then for
her soul. All darkened--her senses were failing. Neale's face glimmered
there--in space--and again was lost. She was slipping--slipping--A rude
and powerful hold fastened upon her. Then all faded.

13

When