That he spoke the truth, the next moment confirmed. Gliding like shadowy phantoms, rapidly yet noiselessly, two riders appeared near the crest of the second swell, already a mile away. Only that the moon was just rising the eastern swells, the chase would have been invisible to the hunters.
But few more words were spoken on the part of the little band. One and all, they saw that a long and severe race was before them, and that all their attention must be given to their horses, already jaded by their hard day’s hunt, if they hoped to keep within view of the young ranger. Up hill and down, over gullies and through the patches of tall grass and weeds, sped the hunters, now no longer in a compact clump, but strung out with intervals of a yard, a horse’s length, maybe, between each other. A dozen lengths in front thundered Ned Campbell on his big bay horse.
“Do the best ye can, boys,” he shouted back, with beard on shoulder. “If you can’t keep up, follow the trail.”
Each of his friends felt the same vague fear that agitated Campbell’s heart. They believed that Hawksley was being led into some great peril by this strange rider—that she was acting the part of a decoy.
But why? That was beyond them. They did not pause to reason—they jumped at once to the conclusion, preposterous as it seemed.
The moon shone clear and full upon the prairie, lighting up this unique, double chase. First—far ahead, almost invisible in the dim, deceitful light, sped the strange woman rider, the spotted mustang running freely and seemingly at ease. Close behind—in fact not more than a hundred yards, thundered the dark figure of the young ranger, urging on his noble “buck-skin” with both voice and spur. A mile further to the rear was Ned Campbell, his big bay holding its own, if not slowly gaining upon the two foremost racers. Gradually losing ground, on struggled the others, bringing up the rear.
Bitterly Hawksley regretted having so severely taxed his animal during the day. Were he fresh now, there was little doubt as to how the chase would terminate. The spotted mustang would speedily be forced to acknowledge its master. But now? With varying hope and fear, Fred urged his horse on. He scarcely knew what to think. At times the spotted creature seemed laboring heavily, at others to be running well within himself. Could it be that this strange woman was playing with him? Fred bit his lip and pressed his spurs home. With an angry snort, the big horse plunged forward with lightning speed.
Ned Campbell was urging his horse to the utmost, and in his anxiety concerning his friend, he neglected his usual caution, unfortunately for all concerned. Fearing to lose sight of the chase, his gaze was bent ahead, as he gained the crest of a swell.
A loud cheer burst from his lips as he caught sight of his friend, seemingly riding close beside the strange woman. As he turned his head to cheer on his friends, Ned felt his horse suddenly stumble, and then came insensibility.
The big bay horse had stepped into the burrow of a gopher, and stumbling, fell with violence, casting its rider far over its head. Campbell lay like one dead, and forgetting all else in their anxiety regarding his welfare, the young hunters dismounted and crowded round him.