"As he dashed past the Lone Pine this rider flung his offering down, and as if inspired by fresh courage and hope, grasped more firmly a bundle which lay across his saddle before him. Maintaining an even, steady gait, yet one of great speed, he succeeded in keeping in advance of his pursuers."
"He grasped mure firmly a bundle which lay across his saddle."
"As darkness fell the Indians slackened their pace, and at last ceased to follow, and the sound of their horses' feet being no longer heard, the man left the trail and sought a safe hiding-place for the night. Carefully depositing his burden he sat down to watch; he dare not sleep, although he was obliged to rest.
"Before the sun rose in the morning he was again on his journey northward. He saw no sign of his pursuers, but he knew he was not safe, so pressed onward with all the haste his horse could accomplish. Through rivers and creeks he rode heedless of danger. He was nearing his journey's end faint with hunger, hard riding and loss of sleep. His horse, too, was jaded, yet conscious of danger, and hopeful at last of rest, pressed on without any urging from his master.
"But a few miles and home is gained. Yonder, looming up on the prairie, are the Fort and houses of the village of Latona.
"Whiz! whiz! Two bullets in rapid succession pass the rider, who, at the sound of their coming, has bent low, leaning forward to protect the bundle on his knee.
"The Indians have followed, and are on his track. Madly they ride, fearful of losing their prize. The blood is trickling down the horse's side and his strength is well-nigh spent.
"From the Fort their approach has been seen and eager eyes are watching the chase. The pursuers are gaining, the pursued is wounded, and evidently in sore straits.