"Yes, that is what Mowbray and his thieves and murderers call themselves. You will know why, I'm thinking, before long.
"But to proceed: We continued to live in the cave for a few days, Joy contriving to trap rabbits and birds, upon which we lived. Then, in a moment of foolhardiness, I determined to go out and see if I could find out whether we had been followed, and at the same time try to get to San Carlos and supply myself with a Winchester and some cartridges, for I knew that, if I was properly armed, I could stand off the gang.
"Well, I saddled the little pony and started out, after telling Joy to come here if I didn't return. I scouted cautiously among the hills, trying to find the pass on the other side of the peak which led out to San Carlos.
"To make a long story short, I rode right into the trap, and was caught by the Gray Wolves. I had six shells in my revolver, and as they surrounded me I fought for my life, and I am glad to say I got three of them before they got me. But I couldn't hit Mowbray, although I tried my best to do so. He seemed to bear a charmed life. As soon as I had fired my last shot I wheeled the pony and fled. Up to this time I had not been hit, but just as I was getting safely away, having jumped through the men surrounding me, clubbing them to the earth with the butt of my pistol, I turned to look back. I saw Mowbray bring down his rifle and take deliberate aim at me, and I shuddered, because Mowbray is one of the finest shots in the world. Then I heard the report of his weapon, and felt the sting of the bullet. He had aimed to strike my heart, but the turn of my body saved me."
"But how did you come to be tied to the pony's back?" asked Ted.
"When I was struck by the bullet I felt myself going. I knew that very soon I would lose consciousness, and in that event I would soon be captured, so it behooved me, while I still retained my senses, to save myself. There was a lariat hanging to the horn of the saddle, and I proceeded to tie myself to the pony's back as well as I could. You see, I knew that the pony would go home when he found himself free.
"I was no sooner well tied to the pony's back when I heard the howl of the wolves, and recognized the voice of White Fang."
"White Fang?"
"Yes, the master of the pack. Have you not heard of him. He is well known in this part of the country—a wolf with almost human intelligence, fierce, a perfect devil of an animal, to whose pack every ranch in this country has paid heavy tribute. You will know more about him if you stay here. He is the devil in the hide of an animal.
"Well, I resigned myself to my fate, with a prayer that the little pony would get me to the Bubbly Well Ranch before the wolves pulled me from his back. And he did."