t may be ambrosyer
or mannar, or some o' them fixin's as a purairy man's stummick ain't
used to. Anyways, a bit o' doe-deer meat won't do no harum. So, Walt
Wilder, ole coon, let's you an' me set our faces southart, an' see
what's to turn up at the tarminashun o' six miles' trampin'."

Once more shouldering the carcase, he strides off towards the south,
guiding himself by the sun, but more by the hoof-marks of the mustang.
These, though scarce distinguishable, under the over-shadowing
sage-plants, are descried with little difficulty by the experienced eye
of the Ranger.

On goes he, now and then muttering to himself conjectures as to what
sort of a personage has appropriated and carried off his comrade. But,
with all his jocular soliloquising, he feels certain the _angel_ will
turn out to be a _woman_.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

FALLEN AMONG FRIENDS.

If, before losing consciousness, Hamersley had a thought that he had
fallen into the hands of enemies, never in all his life could he have
been more mistaken, for those now around him, by their words and
gestures, prove the very reverse. Six personages compose the group--
four men and a girl; the sixth, she, the huntress, who has conducted him
to the house. The girl is a brown-skinned Indian, evidently a domestic;
and so also two of the four men. The other two are white, and of
pronouncedly Spanish features. One is an oldish man, greyheaded,
thin-faced, and wearing spectacles. In a great city he would be taken
for a _savant_, though difficult to tell what he may be, seen in the
Llano Estacado surrounded by a desert. In the same place, the other and
younger man is equally an enigma, for his bearing proclaims him both
gentleman and soldier, while the coat on his back shows the undress
uniform of an officer of more than medium rank.

It is he who answers to the apostrophe, "Hermano!" springing forward at
the word, and obeying the command of his sister--for such is she whom
Hamersley has accompanied to the spot.

Throwing out his arms, and receiving the wounded man as he falls
insensible from the saddle, the obedient brother for a moment stands
aghast, for in the face of him unconscious he recognises an old friend--
one he might no more expect to see there than to behold him falling from
the sky.

He can have no explanation from the man held in his arms. The latter
has fainted--is dying--perhaps already dead. He does not seek it, only
turns to him who wear