ied it as well as
possible, and awaited the coming of the Gray Wolves."

"The Gray Wolves?" said Ted, with interrogation in his voice.

"Yes, that is what Mowbray and his thieves and murderers call
themselves. You will know why, I'm thinking, before long.

"But to proceed: We continued to live in the cave for a few days, Joy
contriving to trap rabbits and birds, upon which we lived. Then, in a
moment of foolhardiness, I determined to go out and see if I could find
out whether we had been followed, and at the same time try to get to San
Carlos and supply myself with a Winchester and some cartridges, for I
knew that, if I was properly armed, I could stand off the gang.

"Well, I saddled the little pony and started out, after telling Joy to
come here if I didn't return. I scouted cautiously among the hills,
trying to find the pass on the other side of the peak which led out to
San Carlos.

"To make a long story short, I rode right into the trap, and was caught
by the Gray Wolves. I had six shells in my revolver, and as they
surrounded me I fought for my life, and I am glad to say I got three of
them before they got me. But I couldn't hit Mowbray, although I tried my
best to do so. He seemed to bear a charmed life. As soon as I had fired
my last shot I wheeled the pony and fled. Up to this time I had not been
hit, but just as I was getting safely away, having jumped through the
men surrounding me, clubbing them to the earth with the butt of my
pistol, I turned to look back. I saw Mowbray bring down his rifle and
take deliberate aim at me, and I shuddered, because Mowbray is one of
the finest shots in the world. Then I heard the report of his weapon,
and felt the sting of the bullet. He had aimed to strike my heart, but
the turn of my body saved me."

"But how did you come to be tied to the pony's back?" asked Ted.

"When I was struck by the bullet I felt myself going. I knew that very
soon I would lose consciousness, and in that event I would soon be
captured, so it behooved me, while I still retained my senses, to save
myself. There was a lariat hanging to the horn of the saddle, and I
proceeded to tie myself to the pony's back as well as I could. You see,
I knew that the pony would go home when he found himself free.

"I was no sooner well tied to the pony's back when I heard the howl of
the wolves, and recognized the voice of White Fang."

"White Fang?"

"Yes, the master of the pack. Have you not heard of him.