he direction of the sound.

"What is it, sergeant?"

"They're coming, sir. Harvey's men, I mean. Will you deliver his
message?"

"Just as you say; why shouldn't you?"

"It'll have so much more effect from your lips, major. They may
misdoubt me."

Far out on the trail the quick-tripping hoofs of mules could now be
heard. Presently a horseman shot up out of the gloom.

"Halt there!" sung out Feeny. "Whose party's this?"

"Harvey's, Tucson. Looking for Moreno's. Are we near?"

"You're there now, but you can't stop. Mr. Harvey wants you to come
right along after him. He has taken the trail to the Christobal, where
the Indians have carried off his daughters."

The man fairly reeled in saddle, shocked at the dreadful tidings.

"When?--how did it happen? Who's gone with him?"

"Some time this morning, from all we can learn. Two squads of cavalry
are on the trail, one with Ned Harvey, the other just out from here at
dark. The old man and George followed them as soon as they got in.
Who's with you?"

"Two Mexicans, that's all; they're no account. I'd best leave them
here with the mules. They're just behind and have been scared to death
already."

And so in ten minutes two more of the low-caste, half-breed Mexicans
were added to the paymaster's garrison, and Sergeant Feeny's brief
exposition of the situation at the ranch only delayed the incoming
American long enough to water his horse and stow a little grain in a
sack.

"I wouldn't wonder a damned bit if the Morales gang _were_ around
here," was his discomforting assurance. "None of 'em have been seen
about Tucson for a week before we left. Wish I could stay and stand by
you, but my first duty is with Mr. Harvey. I've been in his employ
nigh on to eight years."

"What sort of looking man is Ned Harvey?" persisted the sergeant,
still hopeful of some fraud.

"Tall, dark, smooth face; looks like a Spaniard almost. I never saw
anybody who resembled him hereabouts. I'm afraid it's no plant. I
don't want to offend you, sergeant, but I wish to God it _was_ all the
Morales gang's doings and that it was only your money they were after.
If it's Apaches and they have got the old man's children, he'll never
get over it."

"By heaven!" muttered Feeny to himself, as the loyal fellow put spurs
to his horse and disappeared,--"by heaven! I begin to believe it's
both."

And now with gloomy face the sergeant returned to where he had left
Major Plummer watching the westwar