"Let him have the knife," they cried. "You have the horse and the rope." Woofer was forced to be content, and he slowly dragged the rope back again, and made a new noose. He was getting rattled, while Ted was gaining courage, and the rope did not come as accurately as when Woofer had not begun to grow weary. The soldiers were now addressing rough pleasantries at Woofer, who was growing angry and trying harder than ever to rope Ted and drag him to death. Then, quite unexpectedly, the rope settled over Ted's arms, for he had grown a little careless, and his eyes had been directed toward the top of the hill behind the cabin, where he had seen something that caused his eyes to open with wonder. But when he felt himself being dragged along on a run he came to his senses. Stooping his head, he managed to get the knife between his teeth. Then he went along the rope, gathering it in his hands as he went, as if he were climbing it hand over hand. A shout of joy went up from the two girls at this, for they saw his purpose. On he went, the rope coming into his hand and being coiled on his arm. Woofer all the while was urging on his pony, trying to throw Ted off his feet. Ted had now gathered in about thirty feet of the rope, or about half of it. Woofer saw his game, and swore horribly, as he tried in vain to throw Ted. When he thought he had enough rope, Ted bent his head once more, and his fingers grasped the knife with which he cut the rope and was free. Suddenly a shrill whistle left his lips, and there was a nickering answer as Sultan left the other horses and came galloping to his side. Stella threw up her hat and shouted, and the soldiers followed her example. As Sultan galloped on, Ted leaped into the saddle, and began to make a noose in his lariat, for he now was equally armed with his enemy. But Woofer was game, and came galloping back. He didn't know how good a roper Ted was, but he felt confidence in himself. Around they went, circling like horsemen in a circus ring, with watchful eyes and whirling lariats. But suddenly Ted's rope left his hand before Woofer could divine his meaning, and pinioned the cow-puncher. At the same moment Ted gave Sultan a prick with the spur, and the little stallion leaped into the air. Woofer left his saddle and struck the ground with a bump that knocked the wind out of him. This was not to the liking of the soldiers, who ran howling toward Ted. "Drag him from his horse," they shouted. "No, yer don't. Fair play fer all!" a clear voice rang out above the din, and the soldiers turned toward the hill behind the cabin. On the summit stood Bud Morgan, his long, fair hair floating in the breeze, and on either side of him ten cow-punchers with their Winchesters trained upon the unarmed soldiers, whose carbines were stacked in the house. "Three cheers for the broncho boys!" yelled Stella shrilly. "You can't beat 'em anyway you try." CHAPTER XXXVI. THE MOTHER LODE.