ground, while the blood burst from its mouth and nostrils.
Dick could hear the shout of triumph uttered by
his pursuers.
"My poor, poor horse!" he exclaimed in a tone of the
deepest commiseration, while he stooped and stroked its
foam-studded neck.
The dying steed raised its head for a moment, it almost
seemed as if to acknowledge the tones of affection,
then it sank down with a gurgling groan.
Dick sprang up, for the Indians were now upon him,