e corral, following the line of the
fence, and in the center of the bunch was the little bay pony with the
inert, and probably dead, body of a man hanging head downward on the
pony's flank, rolling horribly, and in constant danger of being hit by
the flying heels of the other ponies, who were frantic at the smell of
blood.

Stella rode among the ponies, following the circle with them, all the
while edging in more and more until she was close to the little bay.

Then she was able to see the face of the man tied to its back.

"It's Farnsworth," she shouted to Ted, who was standing on the fence
watching her movements.

"Get him out as soon as you can," Ted answered.

Stella rode to the pony's side, and managed to get hold of the bridle
close to the bit.

Then she maneuvered for an opening by which she could lead the
frightened animal out of the bunch.

"Get ready to open the gate," she called at last, and Kit stood with his
hand on it.

As she came around again she began pushing the bay pony outward.

"Now!" she cried, swinging her own pony against the other with a prick
of the spur, and breaking through the galloping bunch.

The next moment she and a half dozen of the frightened ponies swept
through the gate, and as Kit closed it again Ted ran forward and caught
the bay pony.

"Hurry him to the house," he said, running beside the bay.

His long yell brought the boys and the major to the veranda, and when
they saw Ted running beside the bay pony, with Stella and Kit following,
they rushed out to help.

"What is it?" asked the major, as Ted drew up to the veranda.

"Your brother," answered Ted gently, indicating the inert body tied to
the pony's back.

"Get him off and into the house," said the major brusquely, his face
white with apprehension.

Bud and Ben were working as for their lives at the rope by which the
body of Frederic Caruthers was bound to the pony's back.

Soon they had him released, and between them bore the limp form into the
living room and laid it on a lounge.

The clothes on the body were torn into strips, and the flesh was gashed
in numerous places. This was the work of the wolf's teeth, which, during
the chase, had repeatedly leaped at the unconscious man, trying to drag
him from the pony's back.

"These wounds are not the worst," said Ted, looking down at Caruthers.
"Off with his clothes, boys, and let us see where his real hurt is."

It did not take long for the boys to get C