One bound, like that of a panther, served to bring Bolly Wherrit in a position where he could enter into the game. As his iron hand came down upon the brawny arm of the giant Hercules, the latter looked up with a startled look. It was his last word upon earth, the curse he uttered; for the ranger buried his knife in that broad chest, with the force of an avenger, and threw the dying monster upon the rocky floor. Mason sprang up and took Adele away to the other end of the cavern, in order that she might not witness what a terrible thing death was. I shall not dwell upon the convulsive movements of the stricken giant. Twice he essayed to pull out a revolver, but each time Bolly kicked his arm; and thus foiled of his devilish purpose, the savage man died, foaming at the mouth. Bolly stood contemplating the body with folded arms. There was something fascinating, and at the same time repulsive, in the bulky form lying so quiet in the arms of death, and the gray-haired ranger shook his head as he turned away. "It run agin the grain, that blow did, but 'twar either his life or yers, and I took the choice. He was a fine man in shape, but a devil in mind. Wal, it's the fate o' us all; and the only wonder air how ye've 'scaped so long. Young feller, I reckon az how yer name must be Mason Pierrepont?" said the ranger. "It is, sir, and to whom are we indebted for this great service," said the boy, clasping an arm tighter around Adele than the circumstances seemed to warrant, seeing that she was only an adopted daughter of his mother. His words contained a dignity that compelled Bolly to respect him. "Bolly Wherrit air my name, tho' that ain't o' much consequence. Yer mother engaged me to come arter the leetle gal yonder. Unfortunately I war taken prisoner, but escaped during the fight yesterday. Kin ye tell me anything about it?" Mason graphically, but concisely, gave an account of Custer's annihilation, at which the old ranger stood aghast, and it was several moments before he recovered. "Heavens! but thet war orful. Arter that I'm death on the reds. And ye say my chum Pandy Ellis war in it? If they've rubbed out--but no; sech a thing air impossible; Pandy couldn't die so easy. Custer kilt Black Sculley wid his last shot, did he? Then thar's another boarder jest gone. But poor Custer, an' Cooke, handsome Cooke, and Yates, wid whom I've bunked many's the time. Poor boys, it's a bad piece o' bizness, but ef they've kilt my Pandy Ellis, then the world won't be big enuff ter hide ole Sitting Bull an' his chiefs from Bolly Wherrit's rifle;" and the set teeth proclaimed every word meant as it was uttered. By comparing notes, Mason and the ranger came to a good understanding, and realized the situation of affairs across the river pretty accurately.