The pony on which the young Indian was riding stumbled and staggered forward a few feet, then dropped. That brought the party to a halt, and Ted, turning his face forward, galloped on. Kit had succeeded in mastering his pony and had brought it to a halt, and, as the report of Ted's revolver reached his ears, he turned and rode rapidly in that direction. As the two boys came together and found that they were unharmed and that the war party of Indians had been halted, they dove into a coulee, followed it a short distance, and climbed again to higher ground. The Indians were no longer in sight, and they set off at a gallop toward the west. For half an hour they rode, when Ted suddenly pulled his pony to a stop. On a rise far away he saw a black, slowly moving mass, which, at first, he had taken to be a band of buffalo, but when it strung out he discovered that it was a party of men on horseback. As the sun was behind the riders, Ted could not distinguish whether or not they were Indians or whites, as he could have done if the sun had been shining upon them. "If it's Indians I don't want any more of it," he said. "I don't think they are Indians," said Kit. "Those fellows sit straighter than Indians. I believe they are either our own boys, or cavalry from the post." "I believe you are right," said Ted. "Let's fire a few shots to attract their attention, and then ride to them." The shots were fired, and presently they heard several faint reports, and knew that they had been heard and answered. In a few minutes they had ridden to where the party was standing on the ridge of a rolling hill. They were the broncho boys under the leadership of Ben Tremont. They had all come together on a broad trail that pointed toward the foothills in the north, and, as they rode, had picked up one pair of scouts after another. "Where are Bud and Stella?" asked Ted, running his eye over the party. "Haven't seen anything of them," said Ben, "although we have been keeping a lookout for them. They rode farther to the west, and probably will pick us up later. I think this trail leads into the hills, and that we will find the Indians in camp not far away." This was Ted's belief also, and, taking the leadership, he ordered an advance. "Halt!" Ted Strong had stopped his pony, and with his hand shading his eyes, was looking steadily to the front. "What is it?" asked Ben, riding to his side. "Smoke over the top of that hill right in front of us." Ted did not take his eyes from the spot. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "The bunch of Indians who chased me have taken a short cut and beaten us in. I saw a band of Indians cross in front of us, and one pony carried double." "Then we have caught up with them." "I think so. Hold the boys here, I'm going forward to scout. When I signal, come forward as fast as you can ride." CHAPTER IX. A BATTLE OF QUIRTS.