"There is the trail to the agency, Miss Foshay, and we will turn into it soon. The animal you ride knows the way well, should mine fail, and he will carry you there in a few hours, while I am sure no other redskins are between us and the camp. Ah! my poor comrade, you are feeling your wound," and Lieutenant Carey patted the animal affectionately as he felt him failing.
"Quick! Lieutenant Carey, mount behind me!" cried Emma, as she saw the wounded horse staggering.
"I will try it at least; but if we cannot keep ahead then you must go on alone."
He tore off his holsters as he spoke, leaped from his saddle just as his horse stumbled and fell, and with a spring was behind the young girl.
The redskins yelled with savage triumph, and pressed their ponies harder.
Turning into the broad trail to the agency the horse held his own for a while, though bearing his double weight.
At last Kit Carey spoke, and his voice meant all he said:
"Miss Foshay, no horse can stand this, and to force him to it will end in untold misery to you, as well as to me. I shall drop off at yonder ridge, and you must go on, not pressing your horse too hard, for I will check the Indians for awhile, at least."
"And leave you to sacrifice yourself for me?" was the indignant response of the brave girl.