the course taken by those who fled, so that the scent of the chase was
kept hot.

A sudden turn disclosed three horses, one bearing a rider, and all
standing motionless. A glad whinny of recognition came from one as
Ridge Norris gained its side, and in another moment his own Señorita
was speeding him away from the scene of his recent danger.

As the three swept through the outer picket-line unharmed by its thick
flying bullets, they were startled by a clatter of hoofs at right
angles to their course, and coming swiftly towards them. A cavalry
patrol warned by the uproar, and catching sight of the fugitives in the
growing dawn, was striving to intercept them. They also fired as they
rode, and two of those who fled bent low over their horses' necks that
they might offer as small a mark as possible. Not so the young
American, who now found himself under fire for the first time in his
life. He had found his rifle still attached to the saddle; and now,
with every drop of blood in his body at fighting heat, he sat erect,
half turned, and fired back until every shot in his magazine was
exhausted. As a result, several of the pursuers dropped from the
chase; but it was hotly maintained by the others, who also kept up a
desultory shooting.

They had gained a good mile from town when suddenly one of Ridge's
companions uttered a sharp cry, in a voice distinctly feminine, and
reeled in her saddle. The other, whom Ridge now knew to be del Concha,
leaped from his horse and caught her in his arms as she fell.

"We must make a stand and fight!" he cried, as Ridge reined Señorita to
a sudden halt beside him. "Drive the beasts ahead and conceal yourself