FROM THE PUBLISHER
Wildfire was a little in the lead. He could only half rear now, for the heaving, moving Nagger, always against him, jostled him down, and Slone's iron arm hauled on the short ropes. When Wildfire turned to bite, Slone knocked the vicious nose back with a long swing of his fist. Up the pass the horses plunged.
"Lie down, you scallywag," ordered Clint. But frisky Jack would not settle down. Clint sat there tingling. Then he heard a rifle shot, far off. Leaping up, he ran like a deer to couch's camp. "Captain-my dog-smells Indians," he panted. "An I heard a shot." Couch did not need to be told twice. He got up and shouted: "Ho, men! Be on the lookout!"