The faithful and well-trained steed wheeled and galloped away into the cover of timber near.
Barrows himself sank down behind a pile of rocks.
All this was done in the twinkling of an eye.
The trained westerner whose life is in danger knows well the value of quick action.
It was this which saved the life of Barrows, for half a dozen bullets came whistling down the mountain side the next moment.
He had run unconsciously upon his foes. He experienced a thrill as it occurred to him that this was most likely the party who had Bessie Rodman in their charge.
“Heaven help me now!” he muttered, fervently. “I must save her or die!”
From his position he could safely scrutinize the mountain side.
He saw that far up on its side there was a rude cabin made of bark and logs.
From this the storm of bullets had come.