If horsemen were thundering toward the spot, the fugitive was doomed.

But, though seized with despair, he did not yield. On the contrary, he was nerved to such desperation that he put forth a tremendous effort, which quickly increased the space between him and the pursuer.

But instead of heading away from the coming animals, he turned directly toward them, at the same astonishing velocity. Why he did this, he himself did not fully understand. It may have been that, impressed with the utter uselessness of trying to escape by running, he had a blind hope of unhorsing one of his enemies and wrenching his steed from him.

He had taken only a few leaps, however, when he discovered that the beasts running forward, as if to meet him, were cattle.

Fully fifty animals, belonging to the herd several miles distant, had started out on a little stampede of their own, and fate brought them and him in collision.

It mattered not, for nothing could make the situation worse. The next instant Avon was among them, in imminent risk of being trampled to death. The beasts were terrified by the advent of the footman, and scattered in the wildest confusion.

While he was in such deadly peril, the animals served as a shield against the assault of the Comanche close behind him. Anxious as he was to secure the fugitive, he was not prepared to “cut him out” from a drove of stampeded cattle.

He turned to avoid the terrific rush, and catching fitful glimpses of the leaping form among the beasts, raised his gun and let fly.

His shot struck, but, instead of bringing down the youth, it tumbled one of the bullocks headlong on the plain. Avon would have turned at once to give attention to his enemy, had he not been fully occupied in saving himself from the animals themselves.

Fortunately he had not penetrated far among the drove, and, by a continuance of his inimitable dexterity, he dodged from among them, helped thereto by the efforts of the cattle themselves to flee from the terrifying object.

It was at this juncture, when the youth was striving to get sight of his enemy, who, he believed, was trying equally hard to secure another shot at him, that he saw the very thing he had been dreading from the first.

It was a single horseman, who almost rode him down ere he could check his steed. Avon was so flurried from his fierce exertions, that, before he could bring his rifle to his shoulder and discharge it, the other anticipated him.

But the man did not fire at him. He aimed at the Comanche, not a dozen yards distant, and hit him fairly and squarely.

“Helloa, Baby, what the mischief is up?”

“Thank Heaven, Ballyhoo, it’s you!” exclaimed the panting youth, ready to drop from exhaustion.

“Ballyhoo,” was the nickname of Oscar Gleeson, one of the cowboys in charge of the 114 two thousand cattle that were to start northward on the morrow over the Great Cattle Trail.

“Baby” was the name by which Avon Burnet was known among the rest, because of his youth.

Leaning over his horse, the tall Texan reached down and grasped the hand of his young friend.

“It sort of looks, Baby, as though I had arrived in time to do you a little turn.”

“There’s no doubt of that, for I couldn’t have run much further.”

“But why did you run at all? I observed but one Injin, and he’s of no further account now.”

“When I started there were four after me, but I threw all out of sight except one. I was on the point of turning to fight him, when I heard the cattle, and thought they were other Comanches coming to the help of this fellow.”

“But things seem to be in a queer shape at the house; tell me the trouble.”

“Why, how did you know anything about it at all?” asked the surprised Avon.

“I’ve been down there and seen things for myself.”

“Let me hear about that first, then I’ll let you know what I have to tell, and it is important indeed.”

The Texan, in obedience to his training, cast a look after the vanishing herd and sighed.

“It’ll be a big job to round them up, but I guess we’ll have to leave ’em alone for a time. Wal, you know we went into camp a few miles to the north, to wait for you and the captain that was to jine us in the morning. We were looking after things, when I remembered that I had left my package of tobacco at the house. Things were so quiet, and I was so afeared that you and the captain would forgit to bring it with you, that I concluded to ride over after it myself. I never dreamed of any of the varmints being there, and was going along at a swinging gait, when I heard the sound of a gun and I fetched up my horse to learn what it meant. I didn’t see an Injin, but while I was looking somebody made a rush from the front of the house for the bush.”

“It was myself,” interrupted Avon excitedly, 116 “and the captain fired to save me and did it.”

“I reckon that was Ballyhoo Gleeson that let loose that partic’lar shot,” said the cowboy with a chuckle; “I didn’t know who it was running, but thought it was one of the varmints. Just afore that I was sure that I seed one of ’em and I let fly, shootin’ on gineral principles as you might say. I might have investigated things, but the Comanches were too numerous for comfort, and I wheeled about and made off.”

“So it was you who fired the shot that really cleared the way for me,” said the astonished youth; “I supposed, all the time, that it was my uncle. Where have you been since?”

“I started for camp to tell the boys, and was on my way when I met these confounded cattle. I didn’t want them to get too fur off, as none of the fellows ’peared to be after them. I was trying to round them up, when this little affair took place.”

“But, Ballyhoo, why didn’t you let the cattle go and make all haste after help.”

“Who wants help?”

“The folks in the house; do you suppose I would have ventured out as I did, if they were not in instant need of it?”

Evidently the Texan found it hard to understand the extremity of Captain Shirril and his family.

“There are three of ’em there and each has a gun; I don’t see why you need worry, ’cause the varmints can’t get at ’em and they’ll clear out in the morning.”

“That might be, but uncle says they will set fire to the cabin, unless they are driven off.”

“I didn’t think of that,” replied Gleeson, who still could not feel the alarm of his young friend; “the cabin has been purty well dried up by the drought of the last few months. I thought the varmints were after the cattle, and,” he added, again peering through the gloom after the herd, which had run so far that they were not only out of sight but beyond hearing, “they stand a show of making a good haul. But,” he continued more savagely, “they will find a little trouble in 118 getting off with them. There’s too many for us to lose without a big fight.”

“It doesn’t make any difference if the whole herd is stampeded, we must hurry to the aid of the folks in the cabin.”

“Being as them sentiments are the captain’s,” said Ballyhoo, “why, I’m agreeable to doing as him and you wish. So jump up here behind me, and we’ll go to camp.”

“I can walk.”

“Up with you!” commanded the Texan. “I shouldn’t wonder if some more of the varmints will be on hand afore long, to attend the obsequies of their champion runner.”

Avon obeyed, and the laden mustang struck off to the northward, at an easy gait.