The voices of the servant and her master were plainly heard above, and the Comanche saw it was no time for tarrying. A couple more steps took him to the door, and, with little effort, he lifted the huge bolt from its place, pulled open the structure, and whisked out in the darkness, without so much as a "good-night" or "thank you." The instant he vanished, Mrs. Shirril set down her gun, darted forward, and slipped back the bolt, making the door as secure as before. It was a strange act on her part thus releasing the red miscreant who was seeking her life, but, after all, it was characteristic of her sex. She had little more than time to set things to rights, as may be said, when she stepped back and away from the windows, and sat down in the nearest chair. A slight reaction came over her; she felt weak, though she knew it would not amount to anything: she had been through too many perils before. The feet and lower limbs of Captain Shirril soon appeared on the rounds of the ladder, with Dinah close behind him. In her eagerness to get at the Indian, she stooped forward, so that her big dusky face showed almost over his shoulders. She was just getting ready to fall on the warrior, when she observed that he was gone. "Whar's dat willian?" she demanded, glancing round the dimly lit room. "Yes, Edna, I heard you had a guest down here." "He asked me to let him go, and I thought it was the best way to get rid of him," replied the wife with a smile, for her strength was returning to her. "Humph!" snorted the disgusted Dinah, as one of her feet came down on the floor with a bang, "I's got my 'pinion of sich foolishness as dat." "Let me hear how it was, Edna," said the husband, laughing in spite of himself. She quickly gave the particulars, and he in turn told what he had passed through during his sojourn on the roof. "The fellow deserved something, but, after all, I find no fault with your action. Much as I am exasperated against these Comanches for their attack, I couldn't help feeling an admiration for this fellow, who got the better of me in the neatest style I ever had it done in all my life." "Is it not time we heard something from Avon?" asked the wife; "he certainly has been gone more than an hour----" "Hark!" The shouts, whoops, and the reports of guns and pistols suddenly broke the stillness on the outside. Most of the voices bore a familiar sound, and there were a dash and vim about the whole business which left no doubt of its meaning. In the firelight of the room, husband and wife looked in each other's glowing faces, and instinctively the two uttered the same expression: "The boys have arrived!" CHAPTER XXI. THROUGH THE BUSH. Oscar Gleeson the cowboy, who appeared at such a timely juncture for Avon Burnet, when he was hard pressed by his Comanche pursuer, took the young man on his mustang behind him, as the reader will recall, and set out for the camp, several miles distant.