"What beats me is, if those are Red Bill's men what are they doing in this direction?" said Wandering William, a puzzled look creeping over his weather-beaten countenance.
"Perhaps they have seen that the aeroplane is stranded and are coming to destroy it," hazarded Peggy.
"Maybe," rejoined Wandering William in a far-away voice. His eyes and mind were bent on the approaching cavalcade. If the riders were not Red Bill's men it meant succor and aid. If they were the outlaw's band, it meant-well, Wandering William did not care to dwell upon the thought.
"A few seconds will tell now," he observed as through the dust cloud the outlines of the horsemen became visible.
All at once a shrill series of cries rang out:
"Yip-yip-yip-yee-ee-e-e-e-e-e-e!"
There was something familiar in the sound to Peggy. She leaned forward, straining her ears. Suddenly an active little bronco seemed to separate from the ruck of the riders and dashed forward alone. On his back sat a familiar figure and not a beautiful one, but to Peggy no angel from heavenly regions could have appeared more, beatific just then, for in the rider she had recognized the redoubtable Bud, the leader of the horse hunters.
Bud swept off his sombrero as he dashed up, and was apparently about to make some jocular remark, but he stopped short at the sight of Peggy's pale, anxious face.
"Wa-al, what's all ther trouble hyar?" he demanded; "your sky bronco foundered? Why hello, thar's Wandering William. Didn't know as you was a sky pilot feller?"
"I'm not, I guess," rejoined Wandering William quietly. "I wish I were, and then may be I could help out on this difficulty."