hand of the fugitive dart over to the left shoulder, where the fingers fiddled for a moment. Then they snapped out an arrow from the quiver and the missile vanished, as it was brought round in front of his chest. Since the white man held his fire, the red one meant to use his own weapon.
At the instant the Indian began fitting the shaft to the string while still running, Alden shouted at the top of his voice. It was a warning which was understood and went through the fugitive like an electric shock. He bounded several feet in air, and dropped the arrow to the ground, but he did not lessen the haste with which he was speeding in order to pick it up.
All this occupied but a few brief minutes. The disgusted Dick had carried his rider to within ten feet of the fugitive and now eased his pace. The respective speed of each was the same. The pony had done his part and refused to do more.
Alden Payne decided upon his course at the beginning of the race. He would maintain the pursuit, allowing the Indian to hold his place a little in advance until the end of the gorge was reached and the wretch had the
