“God give me strength to rescue Bessie Rodman!” he prayed, as he rode on.
It had occurred to Barrows that the young girl might have been taken to Ranch V by her captors.
He had half made up his mind to proceed thither when a thrilling thing occurred.
Suddenly the sharp crack of a rifle smote upon the air.
Barrows reeled in the saddle and his horse gave a plunge.
A line of red blood trickled down over his face. The bullet had grazed his cheek bone.
It was a narrow escape.
The fraction of an inch in another direction, and the bullet might have penetrated his brain.
Young Barrows had faced danger and death times enough to know quite well what to do.
He instantly dropped from his horse and spoke a word of command to the animal.