oothed comb,
not a sign nor hair of either man could be found; and the enraged crowd
had to be satisfied with giving Skoonly the promised "hoss-licken," and
running him out of town the next morning, with a warning never to show
his cowardly face on their streets again, unless he was looking for the
job of dancing the hangman's hornpipe at the end of a rope.

The excitement and the confusion and the swift scattering of the crowd,
attending the search for the two scoundrels, of course ended the trial
of Thure Conroyal and Bud Randolph for the murder of John Stackpole; and
they stood free and worthy men in the sight of all people once more--and
with the skin map still in their possession.

"Great Moses! but I was glad to see you, Ham!" declared Thure, as he
gripped his big friend's hand, after some of the excitement had quieted
down.

"Glad! Glad is no name for my feelings, when I saw your great body loom
up by the side of the alcalde," and Bud gripped his other hand.

"I reckon you was some pleased tew see me," grinned back Ham, "both on
you," and the hearty grip of his big hands made both boys wince.

"Colonel, Colonel Fremont!" and Thure broke away from Ham's hand to rush
up to Fremont, who was talking with the alcalde. "I--we can never thank
you enough for coming so splendidly to our help."

"Then do not try," smiled back Fremont. "My boy," and he gripped Thure's
hand, as his face sobered, "I have not forgotten a certain night, some
three years ago, near the shores of Lake Klamath, when an Indian stood
with bow bended and arrow aimed at my breast; nor the skill and
quickness of the boy, whose bullet struck and killed the Indian before
his fingers could loose the arrow.[2] I fancy that I have not yet
discharged my full debt to that boy."

[Footnote 2: A full account of this incident, the saving of Fremont's
life by Thure, is given in the preceding book of this series, _Fighting
with Fremont_.]

"That--that was nothing," stammered Thure, his face flushing with
pleasure to think that Fremont still remembered the incident. "But
this--Think of the terrible death you helped save us from!" and Thure
shuddered.

"Yes, it was terrible," and Fremont's eyes rested kindly on the face of
the boy, "but, think no more about it now," he added quickly, as he saw
how swiftly the color had fled from his face at the thought of the
dreadful peril he had just escaped. "Come," and he turned briskly to
Ham, "I wish you, and the two