Bloody Ike rode out and captured the ponies, and then the two men set off southward, leading two animals not their own. They hoped with these extra mounts to make better time in their flight from the territory where they were too well known for their own comfort. Even the Indians who were friendly with the whites had no use for Price or his gang unless it were to provide amusement at some torture party. That was what Price feared, but he preferred to take his chances of escape through a country swarming with hostile red men to standing trial for his misdeeds with the array of evidence against him provided by Buffalo Bill. Price was doubly glad that the grim ranchman was a stranger to him. There were some of these plainsmen who did not seem to understand a joke, and if they knew the joke was on Uncle Sam they might insist on his--Price’s--company back to the military camp. But Price’s relief at getting off so easily was not long-lived, as we soon shall see. CHAPTER XVIII. INTERESTING ACQUAINTANCES. Grizzled old Nick Nomad, solitary representative of law and order on an expanse broader than the eye could span, was making his lonely way eastward in what he understood to be the wake of his pards. He was talking to himself, possibly, but his conversation was directly addressed to Hide-rack, the horse that the famous old trapper and trailer loved better than any he ever bestrode. “Now, look hyar, Hide-rack, yew cantankerous ole heifercat, don’t ye reckon it’s ’bout time ter pitch our tent an’ eat our doughnuts? We’ve plodded on middlin’ plenty sence sunup, an’ sez I, Nick, ole boy, yer tummy is makin’ love ter yer backbone. What yer say, Hide-rack, ye ole rye-an’-Injun mix-up?” Nomad’s pet names might not have appealed to ears more refined than Hide-rack’s, but the sound of his master’s voice and the kindly pats on his neck that accompanied them lifted the tired ears of the courageous animal, and he briskly increased his pace. “Waugh! Hide-rack, thet’s jest like ye--better arter a sixty-mile run than ye wor at ther start-off. Yer ther clear---- “By ther great horn spoon an’ granny’s ole tin ladle! Ef thar hain’t er c’ral-a-loomin’ up ez big as life right off here whar ther moon is goin’ ter come up sometime, mebbe. D’ye hyar thet, Hide-rack? The’s fodderin’s an’ comp’ny ahead. Boom ’er up, ole hoss pard; we wants ter make er showin’ when we lite.” Probably Hide-rack did not catch the full meaning of his man pard’s words, but at about that time his animal instinct served notice that creatures of his kind were nigh, and, raising his head, the horse, too, saw the human habitation with all its suggestions of feed and rest. The tired animal lifted head and tail, and, as Nomad expressed it, “set sail fer ther c’ral lickerty split.” Old Nomad dashed up to the ranch, or, rather, the home of a stockman who had brought his family to the plains, and shouted: