“Two can play at that game!” muttered Alden, bringing the rifle of Dick Lightfoot to his shoulder and sighting at the miscreant. He had noticed the straggling black hair of his foe, which dangled about his shoulders, his naked chest and deerskin shirt. He was of squat form, sturdy and enduring of frame, and a foe not to be despised by anyone. Thus it came about that he and Alden Payne were aiming at each other at the same moment. That which followed was unprecedented in its way. The youth pulled trigger an instant before the other let fly. Had Alden possessed his own gun, he would have brought down the redskin, for the distance was not great, and we remember he was a fine marksman, but the new weapon did not feel precisely like the one to which he was accustomed. The two had not become fitted to each other. As it was, the bullet struck the forearm of the Indian and inflicted a sharp wound. It was the arm which was grasping the middle of the bow, and the hurt caused an involuntary twitch that spoiled the aim of the archer. The arrow, instead of speeding straight for the heart of the youth, whizzed high in air, circled grotesquely over and struck a rock fifty feet away from him. It was a lucky escape, and Alden lost not a second in taking advantage of it. Throwing his head forward on the neck of his pony, he yanked the reins and called: “Go it, old fellow!” The creature understood. He leaped twenty feet, as if he had been hurled from a springboard and away he sped. It is more than probable that the second Indian launched an arrow after the skurrying horseman, though Alden Payne had no means of knowing. A grim fancy came to the youth that if his enemy had done so, the pony outran the missile. A brief dash carried Alden beyond sight of his enemies, though he was likely to encounter others. He partly straightened up in his saddle and looked to the right and left. With relief unspeakable, he suddenly debouched from the broad gorge he had been following, into a wide plateau. On the right, it wound to the foothills a long distance away and stretched as far as the vision could reach to the left. Some three or four miles straight ahead, the comparatively level plain swept until it entered the hills again, beyond which could be seen the snowy peaks of a lofty mountain range. The plateau must not be looked upon as a smooth plain, for here and there it took a rolling form with arroyos and occasionally boulders that had to be skirted, but, compared with most of the country to the rear, it was an ideal course for a horse and his rider. And how the pony did go! With a snort he flirted his head, as if he would shake off everything that held him back as easily as he blew aside the fleck of foam that alighted like a snowflake on the knee of his rider. With nose outstretched, mane and tail flying, and the play of each muscle like the working of a splendid machine, he flung the miles to the rear with a rapidity that was almost incredible.