d westward across the prairie, beneath the stars, there passed
a swiftly moving black shadow that grew momentarily lighter, and back
from which came a patter, patter, patter, that grew softer and softer;
until at last over the old saloon and its companion store fell silence
absolute.

It was 10:28 when they left Kennedy's place. It was 12:36 when, without
having for a moment stopped their long swinging gallop, they pulled up
at the "Lone Buffalo" ranch, twenty-five miles away, and the last ranch
before they reached the river. The house was dark and silent as the
grave at their approach; but it did not remain so long. The display of
fireworks with which they illumined the night would have done credit to
an Independence Day celebration. The yells which accompanied it were
hair-raising as the shrieks from a band of maniacs. Instantly lights
began to burn, and the proprietor himself, Grey--a long Southerner with
an imperial--came rushing to the door, a revolver in either hand.

But the visitors had not waited for him. With one impulse they had
ridden straight into the horse corral, had thrown off saddles and
bridles from their steaming mounts, and, every man for himself, had
chosen afresh from the ranch herd. Passing out in single-file through
the gate, they came upon Grey; but still they did not stop. The one word
"rustler" was sufficient password, and not five minutes from the time
they arrived they were again on the way, headed straight southwest for
their long ride to the river.

Hour after hour they forged ahead. The mustangs had long since puffed
themselves into their second wind, and, falling instinctively into their
steady swinging lope, they moved ahead like machines. The country grew
more and more rolling, even hilly. From between the tufts of buffalo
grass now and then protruded the white face of a rock. Over one such,
all but concealed in the darkness, Grover's horse stumbled, and with a
groan, the rancher beneath, fell flat to earth. By a seeming miracle the
man arose, but the horse did not, and an examination showed the jagged
edge of a fractured bone protruding through the hide at the shoulder.
There was but one thing to do. A revolver spoke its message of relief, a
hastily-cast lot fell to McFadden, and without a word he faced his own
mount back the way they had come, assisted Grover to a place behind him,
turned to wish the others good luck, and found himself already too late.
Where a minute ago they had