ble fall, designing to fling himself
off where there were no rocks to strike against, but only earth and
sage grass.

First he made sure that the bridle rein was free, and that nothing
would catch upon the saddle when he should drag it after him with his
entangled foot.

The foremost Indian was but a couple of lengths behind him when he
pulled at the left rein, threw the bridle forward, and flung himself
bodily to the ground.

The pony swerved to the left in obedience, and Kiddie escaped its hind
hoofs. He fell flat on his back, with his legs and feet in the air.
The heavy saddle followed him, sliding down over the pony's hocks, and
it was the saddle that got the worst of it when the Redskins galloped
past.

Kiddie, indeed, received no injury from the madly pounding hoofs. But
his back was badly bruised; he was not sure that one or two of his ribs
were not broken; and his right ankle was certainly sprained.

It was evident that the Indians had not expected him to be thrown, for
they raced past him, and several moments went by before they could
swing round.

In those moments Kiddie rolled painfully over on to his knees and
elbows. There was no time for him to cut the stirrup strap, or to
attempt to get his hurt foot free. All that he could do was to be
ready to defend the two precious satchels containing the mails.

Moving himself forward a few inches, so that he could stretch out his
right leg and rest his weight on his left knee and elbow, he drew his
revolver and levelled it.

He could not now see the Indians. They were hidden beyond a screen of
trees and rock. But he heard them as they checked their wild onrush
and turned to ride back and do their worst. He was quite ready for
them; he had six bullets in his gun, and none should be wasted.

Suddenly amid the confused clatter of hoofs there came to him the
sharp, unmistakable crackle of rifle and pistol shots. Then the
Indians rushed into sight, galloping in hot haste.

Kiddie fired at two of them, and was shifting his aim to a third, when
he realized that they were in flight--that they were being pursued by a
horseman who had newly come upon the scene, and who was firing at them
with his six-shooter.

Only now did Kiddie reflect that in the ordinary course of his eastward
bound trip he would have met the westward going Express rider just at
about this same place.

"Alf! Alf Kearney!" he shouted.

The Expressman pulled up short. He had alre