CHAPTER XXXIX.
CONCLUSION.
Long and hard rode Tom Hardynge after his escape from the beleaguring Apaches, for he was determined to save Ned and Dick if the thing were within the range of human possibility. His mustang seemed to understand what was expected of him, and he required no urging from his master to maintain his arrowy flight. It was a literal race between life and death. If he could reach Fort Havens in time to procure succor, the man and the boy were saved. If not, then they were doomed.
At daylight he was among the mountains, and the steed paused a few seconds to swallow a little water from a tiny stream. An hour later he ascended an elevation, and from his back the rider took a survey of the plain stretched out before him.
Far away in the distance a dark, stationary object was discerned. A keen eye could detect something fluttering above it in the wind. That was the star-spangled banner, waving above Fort Havens. Yonder was the destination toward which the little party had been laboring for days and which there was no assurance of still reaching. The scout had not yet passed half the distance intervening between the fort and Hurricane Hill. Mercy to his beast compelled him to give him a brief rest and an opportunity to eat a little food. Then, away again.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and Tom was nearing the fort, which was in distinct view a few miles ahead, when his attention was arrested by the sight of a number of men moving along to the north, and in a contrary direction to that which he himself was following. They suddenly emerged from some hills, and rode at a sweeping gallop. What surprised the hunter was the discovery that they were United States cavalry, that had evidently come from Fort Havens itself! How their appearance could be explained was more than he could understand; but he saw at once that if their co-operation could be secured, several hours' valuable time might be saved. He turned the head of his mustang in that direction and rode at the same tearing speed as before.
The cavalry detected his coming, reined up and awaited his approach. The afternoon was well advanced when the hunter drew rein in front of the company, and saluted the chief officer, who was Colonel Chadmund himself, the commandant of Fort Havens, at the head of seventy-five veteran cavalry. He recognized the scout, and rode forward to meet him.
"Any news of my little boy, Tom?" he asked, before their palms crossed.
"Alive and well."
"Thank God! thank God!" exclaimed the white-faced officer, trembling with joy. "Have the Indians caught him?"