“That gives you two guns; this one is better than mine and I’ll use it.” Without another word, he jerked the reins sharply and spoke to the pony: “Now, Dick, show what you can do!” Everything was clear to the sagacious animal, who sped away like an arrow for the station miles distant. “Ob all de disprobous treatment dis am de wust I eber had,” growled Jethro, who started Jilk down the trail after Firebug, who was now a number of rods distant. That the dusky horseman was in a state of terror need not be repeated. He forced his animal to a pace that quickly brought him beside the other. “Go it, Firebug!” he called, and the pony changed his trot to a gallop which carried him swiftly down the incline, with Jilk at his heels. “I ’spose our folks am ’bout sebenteen thousand miles back somewhere and it’ll take me a week to find ’em if I got de chance.” It was like running the gauntlet, when the endangered one expects a fatal blow at every step and is pretty sure to receive it. Jethro glanced to the right and left, over his shoulder and in advance. The incline made the traveling easy. After reaching the level, there was no reason why the headlong pace should not be kept up for the remainder of the distance to the train. Amid the fluttering hope and dread, the African nearly pitched from the saddle, when several whoops rang out in the stillness. He was so terrified he could not tell the direction whence they came, but he thought it was from the rear. He drove Jilk to his highest speed and Firebug increased his pace correspondingly. The next instant the whoops sounded again, but they came from the front! “Gorrynation!” gasped Jethro drawing on his bridle rein; “dey am on ebery side; de only way out ob dis muss is for Jilk to climb up de sides ob de rocks.” Could he have believed he was not in plain view of his enemies, Jethro would have leaped from his saddle and hidden himself. He thought of doing it as matters stood, but dared not. The quick glances to the right and left of the gorge failed to show him any one of his enemies, but he knew they were there. Had there been any doubt as to that it vanished the next moment when an arrow flitted like a swallow between him and the streaming forelock of his pony. “I’m a goner!” he wailed, throwing himself forward so as to be as flat as possible on the back of his animal. He reflected that the missile had passed in front of him, so that it looked as if he were placing himself nearer the path of other similar missiles. But he was going all the time, and the next one would possibly go behind, or more likely through him. It will be remembered that he had a loaded rifle in either hand. Had he carried out his first idea and dashed for refuge behind one of the nearest boulders, he ought to have been able to put up a good fight and stand off the redskins until the sounds of firing brought Shagbark and his friends to his relief, but Jethro lacked courage to try the scheme.