Then a shriek rung out on the air—a shriek that was half a wail, half a curse—so weird and so unearthly that for a moment the blood seemed to stand still in the veins of the three startled men.
“My God! What is that?” cried Darke.
“It’s the accident we’ve bin waitin’ for,” said the big hunter, calmly. “It’s purty near time for us to take advantage of it. Git ready.”
At that moment there came from the direction of the Indian encampment an almost deafening report, followed instantly by cries of agony and fear.
“Now’s our time!” cried the big hunter. “Shoot down every red-skin you see! But don’t harm a hair of Ku-nan-gu-no-nah’s head if you can help it! Take him alive!!”
As they cleared the chapparal, they saw a sight for which even the terrible cry of a moment before had not prepared them.
It was a gigantic human skeleton, standing upright on the back of a milk-white horse that moved with more than the speed of the wind. In the bony, grisly arms of the Phantom Rider was Vinnie Darke!
CHAPTER XVII.
A REUNION OF HEARTS.
“It is Vinnie!” cried Darke, wildly. “Oh God, save my child!”
“Heavens!” exclaimed the young hunter, in the same breath. “What is that? Oh! my darling! She is lost! lost!” and he reeled in his saddle.