A moment more, the hounds came upon him. He kicked desperately, but could not free himself from them. Then, winding his fingers around Esther's throat, he choked her, and threw her to the ground. He lifted his gun, faced his pursuers, and fired. The ball entered the chest of Kenneth Hastings, who was in hot pursuit, and nearing the Indian. Kenneth fell from his horse, and the savage escaped. "My God!" exclaimed John Clayton, as he came up. He sprang from his saddle, and knelt by Kenneth's side. A little farther on lay Esther, unconscious. Her face was ghastly in the dim light, her clothing wet. "Brandy!" he called. "Any one got brandy?" "Here," said Pete Tompkins, stepping forward; "here's a flask." "With shaking hand, John Clayton tried to staunch the wound in Kenneth's shoulder. Then he put brandy between his lips, then between Esther's. She was like ice. "The brute!" he exclaimed. "I fear he has killed her!" Then he pulled off his coat and wrapped it about the girl, saying as he did so: "If she is not dead, the warmth may do her good. Some one ride ahead and prepare Mrs. Clayton." "I'll go, sir," said a Scotch miner, mounting one of the ponies. "Thank you. Tell Mrs. Clayton that Miss Bright and Mr. Hastings have met with an accident, and both are unconscious. Tell her to have hot water and blankets ready." "Come, John," he said, turning to Jack Harding. "Just help me lift Miss Bright to my saddle." Mechanically the cowboy obeyed. "Can one of you fellows carry Hastings on his horse?" Jack Harding volunteered. Few words were spoken by any of the men, as they made their way back to camp. Pete Tompkins had noisily boasted that he would kill the Indian; but, hearing no reply from any one, he subsided. In spite of his coarseness and vulgarity, he was touched by the tragic ending of the young teacher's life, and by the evident sorrow of his companions. He looked at the still, white face, and something tugged at his heart. As they passed Keith's house, Mrs. Keith ran out. "'Ere!" she said. "Wrap 'er in this 'ere warm shawl." Wathemah ran after them, asking anxiously: "Me teacher sick?" "Yes, very sick, Wathemah," answered Clayton. Just as they reached the Clayton home, Esther roused, and said in a dazed way: "Where am I?" "You are at home," answered her host, as he carried her into the house. "Do you feel better?" he asked, as he laid her on the couch. "What has happened?" she asked, showing no sign of recognition. "We don't know," said Mrs. Clayton, bending over her. She moaned. "Don't you remember the Indian who came to the schoolhouse?" questioned Mr. Clayton anxiously. "Indian? Schoolhouse?" she repeated in a perplexed way. "Where am I?" "Here with Mrs. Clayton," said her hostess. "Mrs. Clayton? Who is _she_?" asked Esther, vacantly. The group about her exchanged troubled glances. John Harding was already on his way to the railway station to telegraph for Dr. Mishell.