We said "no"; but they bustled about, hurrying up their own supper, which was under way when we arrived. While they bustled they fired questions at us; who we were, and where we had come from, and where we were going, and all. The major seemed kind of light-headed. He groaned and wriggled and mumbled. The message was on his mind, and the Red Fox Scouts, and the fear that neither would get through in time. He kept trying to pass the message on to us; so finally I took it. "All right. I've got it, major," I told him. "We'll carry it on. We can make Green Valley easy, from here. We'll start as soon as we can. To-morrow's Sunday, anyway. You go to sleep." That half-satisfied him. We found that we couldn't eat much. We drank some milk, and stuffed down some bread and butter; and by that time Fitz and Scout Ward had the horses led out. We heard the hoofs, and in came Ward, to tell us. "Horses are ready," he announced. Out we went. No time was to be lost. They even had saddled them--Fitz working with his one hand! So all we must do was to climb on. The women had told us the trail, and they had given us an old heavy coat apiece. Nights are cold, in the mountains. "You know how, do you?" queried Fitz of me. "Yes." "That gray horse is the easiest," called one of the women, from the door. "Let Jim take it, then," spoke Van. But I had got ahead of him by grabbing the bay. "Jim is used to riding," explained Fitz. "So am I," answered Van. "Not these saddles, Van," put in Ward. "They're different. The stirrups of the gray are longer, a little. They'll fit you better than they'll fit Jim." Van had to keep the gray. It didn't matter to me which horse I rode, and it might to him from the East; so I was glad if the gray was the easier. We were ready. "We'll take care of Tom till you bring the doctor," said Fitz. "We'll bring him." "So long. Be Scouts." "So long." A quick grip of the hand from Fitz and Ward, and we were off, out of the light from the opened door where stood the two women, watching, and into the dimness of the light. Now for a forty-mile night ride, over a strange trail--twenty miles to the mines and twenty miles back. We would do our part and we knew that Fitz and Ward would do theirs in keeping the major safe. That appeared a long ride. Twenty miles is a big stretch, at night, and when you are so anxious. We were to follow on the main trail for half a mile until we came to a bridge. But before crossing the bridge there was a gate on the right, and a hay road through a field. After we had crossed the field we would pass out by another gate, and would take a trail that led up on top of the mesa. Then it was nineteen miles across the mesa, to the mines. The mines would have a light. They were running night and day.