He had been gone but a short time, when the near crack of a rifle broke the stillness, and Egbert started and looked around, thinking that, perhaps, some treacherous Comanche had stolen up and sent a bullet after him; but he could see nothing, and he concluded that Lightning Jo had something to do with the discharge of the gun, as, indeed, it seemed to have a certain familiar sound.
But little time was given him for speculation when the scout himself put in an appearance.
“Come, Roddy,” said he. “I’ve found your hoss; we’re ready now; and there’s no use in waiting longer.”
“Where did you find him?” asked Egbert, not a little surprised and delighted at the unexpected news.
“There was a red-skin on him; he ain’t there now, and I guess won’t bother us more.”
Sure enough, a few rods away, the identical steed which Egbert had ridden from Dead Man’s Gulch was found secured to a bush, and, leaping upon his back, it required but a few minutes for the two comrades to reach the spot where the faithful mustang of Lightning Jo was awaiting the return of his master.
“Now, let us get out of this infernal place,” added the scout, as the two reined up their animals, side by side.
“Whither do we direct our course?” asked Egbert.
“Straight after them devils, and we’re never to stop till we cotch up with Swico, and him and me square up our accounts.”
A little care and patience, and in a few minutes the two horsemen found themselves upon the edge of the prairie, and they headed due west, straight in the path taken by Swico-Cheque and his band, and the mustangs were instantly put to a full run.