Just then he reached the crest of a prairie billow, whence he could see the fugitives still far ahead of him. Suddenly a suspicion entered the seaman’s mind, which made his heart almost choke him. What if this should be Mary Jackson and her father? Their relative size countenanced the idea, for the woman seemed small and the man unusually large.
In desperate haste Dick now urged on his gallant steed to her best pace, and well did she justify the praises that had been often bestowed on her by Hunky Ben. In a very brief space of time she was close behind the fugitives, and Dick was now convinced that his suspicions as to who they were was right. He rode after them with divided feelings—tremblingly anxious lest Mary should fall into the hands of their ruthless foes—exultantly glad that he had come there in time to fight, or die if need be, in her defence.
Suddenly the male fugitive, who had only glanced over his shoulder from time to time, pulled up, wheeled round, and quickly raised his rifle.
“Hallo! get on, man; don’t stop!” Dick yelled, in a voice worthy of Bull himself. Taking off his hat he waved it violently above his head. As he spoke he saw the woman’s arm flash upwards; a puff of smoke followed, and a bullet whistled close over his head.
Next moment the fugitives had turned and resumed their headlong flight. A few more minutes sufficed to bring Dick and the black mare alongside, for the latter was still vigorous in wind and limb, while the poor jaded animals which Mary and her father rode were almost worn out by a prolonged flight.
“Dick Darvall,” exclaimed Jackson, as the former rode up, “I never was gladder to see any man than I am to see you this hour, though but for my Mary I’d surely have sent you to kingdom come. Her ears are better than mine, you see. She recognised the voice an’ knocked up my rifle just as I pulled the trigger. But I’m afeared it’s too late, lad.”
The way in which the man said this, and the look of his pale haggard face, sent a thrill to the heart of Dick.
“What d’ye mean?” he said, looking anxiously at Mary, who with a set rigid expression on her pale face was looking straight before her, and urging her tired pony with switch and rein.
“I mean, lad, that we’ve but a poor chance to reach the ranch wi’ such knocked-up brutes as these. Of course we can turn at bay an’ kill as many o’ the red-devils as possible before it’s all over wi’ us, but what good would that do to Mary? If we could only check the varmins, there might be some hope, but—”
“Jackson!” exclaimed the seaman, in a firm tone, “I’ll do my best to check them. God bless you, Mary—good-bye. Heave ahead, now, full swing!”