And as they tried to decide which to do, they beheld Bowser fall.
“Someone’s down! We must save him!” shouted the foreman to his bunkmate. And together they rode with might and main.
But little did they think the fallen man was their master!
Being the heavier man Sandy’s pony was tiring rapidly.
“Ride, man, I can’t last!” he shouted.
Bending low over his saddle, Pinky rowelled deep furrows in the flanks of his broncho.
Gamely the beast responded.
The blanket of suffocating smoke was almost upon the prostrate form of the owner of the Double Cross.
Less than fifty feet away was Pinky.
Leaning far to one side of his saddle, the cowboy raced up, just as the hot, choking black pall settled over the spot where the ranchman lay.