y ring. The white stallion plunged back, and his band
closed in behind him. He had seen our saddle horses. Then trembling,
whinnying, and with arched neck and high-poised head, bespeaking his
mettle, he advanced a few paces, and again whistled his shrill note of
defiance. Pure creamy white he was, and built like a racer. He pranced,
struck his hoofs hard and cavorted; then, taking sudden fright, he
wheeled.

It was then, when the mustangs were pivoting, with the white in the
lead, that Jones jumped upon the stone, fired his pistol and roared
with all his strength. Taking his cue, I did likewise. The band huddled
back again, uncertain and frightened, then broke up the canyon.

Jones jumped the ditch with surprising agility, and I followed close at
his heels. When we reached our plunging horses, he shouted: "Mount, and
hold this passage. Keep close in by that big stone at the turn so they
can't run you down, or stampede you. If they head your way, scare them
back."

Satan quivered, and when I mounted, reared and plunged. I had to hold
him in hard, for he was eager to run. At the cliff wall I was at some
pains to check him. He kept champing his bit and stamping his feet.

From my post I could see the mustangs flying before a cloud of dust.
Jones was turning in his horse behind a large rock in the middle of the
canyon, where he evidently intended to hide. Presently successive yells
and shots from our comrades blended in a roar which the narrow
box-canyon augmented and echoed from wall to wall. High the White
Mustang reared, and above the roar whistled his snort of furious
terror. His band wheeled with him and charged back, their hoofs ringing
like hammers on iron.

The crafty old buffalo-hunter had hemmed the mustangs in a circle and
had left himself free in the center. It was a wily trick, born of his
quick mind and experienced eye.

The stallion, closely crowded by his followers, moved swiftly I saw
that he must pass near the stone. Thundering, crashing, the horses came
on. Away beyond them I saw Frank and Wallace. Then Jones yelled to me:
"Open up! open up!"

I turned Satan into the middle of the narrow passage, screaming at the
top of my voice and discharging my revolver rapidly.

But the wild horses thundered on. Jones saw that they would not now be
balked, and he spurred his bay directly in their path. The big horse,
courageous as his intrepid master, dove forward.

Then followed confusion for me. The pound