"Y-e-o-w! W-o-w!" howled the fat boy. "Beat it for the tall grass, Tad!"
A quick glance behind him, revealed the true state of affairs to Tad Butler. He dug in the spurs, clinging to the lariat for a few feet, then suddenly releasing it, as the pony leaped away under the stinging pressure of the spurs.
"Duck! Duck! They're going to shoot!" shouted Tad.
CHAPTER XV
HIT BY A DRY STORM
"There it goes! Lower, Chunky!"
A rifle had crashed somewhere to the left of them.
Stacy's curiosity getting the better of him, he had twisted his body around, and was peering back; but he was bobbing up and down so fast that he found it difficult to fix his eyes on any one point long enough to distinguish what that object was.
"Look! Look!" he cried, when in a long rise of the pony his eyes had caught something definite.
The roped Indian was running for his pony, which he caught, leaping to its back and dashing away madly.