and foot."

Frank galloped up the path a short distance, but could see nothing of
the horse. The Ranchero had, doubtless, left him in the bushes, and
Frank was about to dismount and go in search of him, when, to his utter
astonishment, he saw Pierre coming toward him. His face was badly
scratched; his jacket and shirt had disappeared altogether; his breast
and arms were covered with blood, and so was his knife, which he still
held in his hand. But, where was Marmion, that he was not following up
his enemy? The answer was plain. The dog had been worsted in his
encounter with the robber, and Frank was left to fight his battles
alone. He thought no more of taking Pierre a prisoner to the rancho. All
he cared for now was to escape.

"Well, now, it was good of you not to run away when you had the chance,"
said the Ranchero, who appeared to be quite as much surprised at seeing
Frank as the latter had been at seeing him.

"If I had thought that you could get away from that dog, I should have
been a mile from here by this time," replied Frank. "I was looking for
your horse, and, if I had found him, I should have gone to Marmion's
assistance."

"Well, he needed you bad enough," said Pierre, with a laugh. "I have
fixed him this time."

"You have!" cried Frank, his worst suspicions confirmed. "Is Marmion
dead?"

"Dead as a door-nail. Now we must be off; we have wasted too much time
already."

If the Ranchero supposed that Frank would allow himself to be captured a
second time, he was sadly mistaken. The boy was free, and he determined
to remain so.

"Pierre," said he, filled with rage at the words of the robber, "I may
have a chance to square accounts with you some day, and if I do I'll
remember that you killed my dog."

"Come, now, no nonsense," said the Ranchero, gruffly. "You are my
prisoner, you know."

"I think not. Stand where you are; don't come a step nearer."

While this conversation was going on, Pierre had been walking slowly up
the path, and, as Frank ceased speaking, he made a sudden rush,
intending to seize Roderick by the bridle. But his rider was on the
alert. Gathering his reins firmly in his hands, he dashed his spurs into
the flanks of his horse, which sprang forward like an arrow from a bow,
and thundered down the path toward Pierre, who turned pale with terror.

"Out of the way, you villain, or I'll ride you down," shouted Frank.

This was very evident to the Ranchero, who, seizing upon the on