"So long! Come on, Stella, we'll have to kick dust if we're going to connect with that old party."
They dashed down the street, followed by an equal mingling of smiles and frowns. Smiles from the cow-punchers and townspeople whose champion he had been, and frowns from the gamblers.
But they saw neither, for they were intent upon their business. They made a mighty handsome couple as they dashed along, for they were well mounted and both were perfect riders.
Many a young girl walking along the street looked enviously after Stella, and wished she could ride as well and was as beautiful. And many a lad looked after his ideal of a hero of the West, dashing and brave Ted Strong, who had so lately vanquished the bully who had been feared of all men, and who could ride like a centaur, and shoot perfectly.
It did not take long for them to clear the town, and dash out onto the prairie road which led into the Wichita Mountains.
They did not spare their horses, for Ted knew that if Norris once succeeded in reaching the mountains it would be almost impossible to find him among the many fastnesses and deep and rough cañons which abound in those most picturesque hills and peaks.
While Ted knew the Wichita Mountains well, he was also aware that even the most expert scout did not know all about them, and that there were places in them that had never been explored, unless, perhaps, by renegade Indians and white outlaws, with which the mountains had at times been infested.
They had ridden an hour or more when Ted pulled in his pony.
"No use riding our ponies to death the first heat," he said to Stella, with a smile.
"My cayuse is good for another hour," said Stella; "I can tell by the way he's going under me."