the
pasture was for one instant silhouetted against the sky on the edge of a
ravine, and at that moment Hank's rifle cracked. Throwing both arms up
over his head, he turned a backward flip from the horse and sprawled
inertly in a currant bush. Re-loading as quickly as they could while on
the run the two plainsmen hastened to the group, and Tom, pulling Dr.
Whiting from his horse, was within an inch of strangling him when
Patience's hands on his wrists checked him.

"Six trusty knights!" sneered the enraged plainsman, hurling the doctor
from him. "I _said_ you were six flashes. Ask a woman to go riding with
you in a country as broken as this, and as over-run with Indians!" He
took a step forward, seething with rage, and ran his eyes over the
speechless tenderfeet. "Git back to camp, all of you! Miss Cooper goes
with us!" Poised, tense, and enraged he watched them go and did not know
that Hank had run to the little hilltop for the double-barreled rifle
until the old hunter returned with it, loaded its two barrels, capped
them and threw the weapon under his arm. At that moment a burst of
firing sounded from the north and Hank cocked his head.

"Sounds like them Colt rifles," he remarked, and then kicked himself
figuratively, for at his words, his two companions, almost in each
other's arms, started, stiffened, and stepped apart. Seeing that the
damage already was done, Hank placidly continued. "Is thar another
passel o' Texans loose 'round hyar, or has our friends hit th' trail
already?"

"Yes," said Tom, quivering like a leaf.

Patience closed her eyes. "Yes," she sighed.

Hank scratched his head and frowned, very much puzzled. "Shucks! thar
ain't no doubt 'bout it, a-tall. Course it is--an' I'm a danged old
fool!"

"You're one of the four best men I ever knew," said Patience, resting
her hand on his arm.

Hank felt of the disgraceful, stubby beard on his face, scowled at his
blackened hands, and furtively brushed at a bloodstain on his shirt.
Then he wheeled abruptly and strode off to look over the victims of the
little affray. When he turned again he saw Patience and Tom going toward
camp, Patience on her horse and Tom striding at her side. Fixing the
strap to his own rifle he slung the weapon over his shoulder and, with
the double-barreled weapon balanced expertly in his hands, slowly
followed after to act as a badly needed protector to them both.

Back in camp Tom handed Patience into her uncle's care, look