“I haven’t them. We left them behind; but where, I refuse to tell you.” “Search her!” said Black John, grinning in a knowing way. The man sprang upon the frightened girl, and the next moment it seemed that he would tear her clothing from her body. It was too much for Nomad. Regardless of the revolvers leveled on him, he leaped to Lena’s aid. With a blow of his fist he laid the miscreant on the ground. At the same time his shrill whistle to Nebuchadnezzar sounded, and the old horse came jumping to his side. “Git on him!” Nomad yelled to the girl, as he fought with another outlaw who assailed him. Lena tried to obey, but her skirts were caught by the fallen rascal, and she was thrown down. Black John came to the assistance of the man who was battling with Nomad, and in a few moments the old man was conquered; and then his hands were bound, while he was held down. “Shoot him!” snarled the rascal who had been bowled over by Nomad’s gnarled fist. “Not yit!” Black John commanded. He put up a hand for silence. “Mebbe that’ll draw Cody and Pawnee Bill,” he said; “and if they come we’ll have a fight, er mebbe we can capture ’em here. Listen!” But if the sounds had reached Buffalo Bill, there was nothing to indicate it. Nomad looked regretfully at the girl, who, frightened and trembling, was standing close by, one of the outlaws grasping her by the arm. “Too bad, leetle gal,” he said; “but I’ve allus noticed thet storms never last, and thet bright weather allus comes after they’re over. It’s hard lines fer ye now, but better times is comin’.” “Shut up!” commanded Black John, who was still hearkening for some sound of the approach of Buffalo Bill, and of Pawnee Bill, whom he thought with him. Old Nebuchadnezzar, his bridle held by one of the masked men, was dancing in uneasiness and anger. “Whoa, Nebuchadnezzar!” said Nomad. The uneasy horse gave him an idea. Nebby was within a yard of him, and on Nebby’s back was his old, high-horned saddle. Nomad’s feet were not yet bound, though that would come soon, he knew. The shrill whistle, in a different key, rose from his lips. He jumped to the horse and threw his bound hands up, so that the cords which held his wrists together hooked over the saddle horn. Nebuchadnezzar gave so shrill a squeal that it was almost a scream, and at the same time gave a jump and lunge which hurled to the ground the man who was holding the bridle. The man tried to cling to the rein and stop the furious old horse, but Nebuchadnezzar trod him under foot; and the next moment he was “running away,” with old Nomad swinging along, supported by the saddle horn. The old man had not taken time to get into the saddle--had feared to try that--but was hoping the horse would bear him beyond the outlaws, and that he could in some manner escape. Black John and some of the other outlaws pitched up their revolvers; but instantly Black John lowered his.