in, dropping from a swift gallop to an easy canter. Still Sheila was
close behind. Kiddie began to scold her, but, as this had no effect,
he pulled up to a halt, and dismounted.

"Now, do as you're told, Sheila," he said, half gravely, half
coaxingly. "Go back home, you're not to come with me. I'm going too
far. Go home, now; there's a good girl."

The hound seemed to understand, for she turned away a few steps and
then looked at him pleadingly, standing with her jaws open, and her
long dripping tongue working like a piston over her white fangs.

Suddenly she lifted her head, and looked sharply into the shadow of the
trees. Her ears were raised as if she had heard some strange,
suspicious sound.

Kiddie, preparing to re-mount, listened also. He heard the breaking of
a twig far in among the thickly-growing trees. At the same instant
something like the buzz-z of a mosquito passed by his ear. An arrow
flashed across the trail between him and the dog, striking against a
stout tree trunk on the farther side. Then a second arrow, aimed
higher, rattled among the upper branches.

Now, Kiddie had his mail bags to think of. He had already lost several
precious moments dealing with the hound, and he could not afford to
waste time in trying to discover what possible enemy was lurking in the
woods with the evident purpose of taking his life.

Drawing his revolver, he fired two shots in the direction from which
the arrows had come. Then he turned to Sheila.

"Seek him, Sheila--seek him! After him--quick!" he ordered, pointing
out the way; and as the deerhound plunged into the woodland he snatched
up the nearer arrow, ran to his pony, and, re-mounting, renewed his
broken journey.

At Three Crossings, which was his next relay station, he showed the
arrow to the man who met him with the fresh pony.

"Say, Hoskin, how's that?" he questioned. "Some skunk hidin' in the
timber this side of Medicine Creek, figured ter do me in with it.
Poisoned, ain't it?"

Hoskin took the weapon and critically examined its barbed point.

"Yep," he nodded meaningly, handing it back. "It's sure poisoned. A
scratch with it would kill you right away. Got any partic'lar enemy
among them Injuns hangin' out along your way? What about the lot as
was at Birkenshaw's t'other morning? You was thar, I hear. What about
Broken Feather?"

"Broken Feather could hardly know that I'm takin' this trip with the
Pony Express," Kiddie demurred.