Suddenly they came to a hillside covered with wild oats, on which several dark objects that the boy made out to be ponies were hobbled. Deftly seizing one by the nose, the girl forced a rope "hackamore" she had brought with her into its mouth, and cast off its hobbles. Rob, with one hand on the little animal's rump, and the other on its withers, vaulted to the pony's back in a second. "Which way I go?" he whispered. "Over there," rejoined the girl, pointing to the eastward. "Bymby find trail." "All right, Susyjan; you're a brick," whispered Rob, "and I won't forget the beads." "Real ones, like white lady," insisted Susyjan. "Sure, and the whitest of them isn't any whiter than you," Rob assured her, as he dug his heels into the pony's bony sides and the little animal plunged forward. As he did so, Susyjan wheeled and vanished. It was important for her to be in bed in her tepee in case the alarm was given. "Slow and steady's the word, I guess, along here," mused Rob, as the pony picked his way among rough rock and stubbly brush. "If this little animal doesn't stumble and wake the whole camp, I'm in luck. Anyhow, Susyjan won't get in trouble over it now. That's one thing, and----" Crash! The little pony had done just what Rob dreaded. Nimble as it was, a loose rock had proved its undoing, and it had come down on its knees with a crash. Instantly it scrambled up again, but as it did so a series of demoniacal yells rang out behind the boy. The alarm had been given. Suddenly there was added to the general confusion the sound of confused shooting. Bang! Bang! "Waking up the camp," muttered Rob, swinging the end of his rope hackamore and bringing it down over the pony's flanks with a resounding "thwack." "Now get a move on, Uncle One-Eyed Horse's pony, for if ever you carried a fellow in need, you've got one on your back to-night." CHAPTER XIV. A TOBOGGAN TO DISASTER. Pluckily forward plunged the pony, as if anxious to redeem his untimely stumble. "It'll take them some time to get to their ponies and unhobble them," thought Rob. "If I've luck, I may get away yet." Keeping steadily to the direction the girl had pointed out, the boy pressed on at as fast a clip as he dared. The farther he rode ahead of the pursuing tribe, the better chance he stood of getting beyond their earshot. It was risky riding, though, through an unknown country on such a dark night. What sort of going it was under foot, Rob could only tell by the uncertain gait of the beast he bestrode. Bushes occasionally brushed in his face, scratching it, and once in a while an extra strong bunch of chaparral would press against his legs, almost brushing him from his pony's back. Suddenly the way took a steep downward pitch.