A roll of the prairie had hidden the approach of a column of mounted men until they were pretty near, and now all who wore uniform and a number of others halted at a hundred yards from the stockade gate at which Mrs. Evans and Vic were standing. One man dismounted and walked forward, leading by the hand a strangely dressed but comely-looking Indian girl. His face was flushed and troubled, and the eyes of the girl glanced timidly in all directions, as if seeking a means of escape from meeting those two pale-face squaws.
"Husband!" exclaimed Mrs. Evans, turning very pale, "where is Cal?"
"Cal!" echoed Vic, with painful eagerness.
"He is a prisoner," faltered the colonel.
"Father!" almost screamed Vic. "The Apaches have got him?"
"The same band that took the horses, and that this girl belongs to. Vic, this is Tah-nu-nu. We shall hear from Cal."
It was dreadful news, and it was not possible to hear it calmly, but Captain Moore now rode up and so did Sam Herrick. They had wished that first meeting over, and the report of Cal's captivity made without their being too near. Mrs. Evans managed to maintain her dignity fairly well to receive them, but they found Vic in an uncontrollable fit of crying.
"Vic," said her father, "don't cry. Cal will surely come back soon, safe and sound. Take Tah-nu-nu into the house."
At that moment they were all startled by a burst of cheering from the mounted men. Cheer followed cheer, and as the group at the gate turned to look, they saw a rider who dashed past the cavalry at full gallop. He was swinging his hat tremendously, but seemed unable to hurrah.
"Colorado!" shouted Sam Herrick. "Cal and the red mustang!"