"How the mischief did you get there?" was the astonished exclamation of the Texan, as he again brought his rifle to a level. At the moment of doing so, he comprehended how it all came about. The Comanche had darted directly under the mustang, doing so with a quickness and skill that baffled the eye of his foe. Few, even of his own people, could have performed the exploit which he executed with perfection. Ballyhoo Gleeson lowered his gun. "You can go! I'll be hanged if you don't deserve to get away after _that_ trick!" CHAPTER XXII. THUNDERBOLT. Avon Burnet knew that when the cattlemen reached a point within a half mile of his home, and the fire had not yet been started, that all danger was over. It was beyond the power of the assailants, with the slight time at their command, to harm the defenders. Then naturally his thoughts turned to his mustang Thunderbolt, that had been left in the mesquite bush with the animal belonging to his uncle. The chances were that the Comanches had captured both, but he was not without hope regarding his own pony. The steed was so intelligent that he was certain to resist the approach of a stranger at night, especially if he were an Indian. The redskins were so occupied in trying to encompass the death of the Texan and his family, besides being well supplied with their own steeds, that they were not likely to put forth much effort to capture a single animal. The youth was as eager as his companions to do his part in driving off the red men, but the chance was denied him. The spare horse which he rode, and which he put to his best pace, could not hold his own with the rest, and consequently he arrived at the rear of the procession. He glanced right and left, but caught the outlines of but one figure, whose identity he suspected, because he was standing in front of the cabin door. "Helloa, uncle, is that you?" "Yes, Avon; I see you have arrived; I hope you suffered no harm." "Matters were stirring for a time, but I am safe." At this moment, Mrs. Shirril and Dinah, recognizing the voice, opened the door, the captain inviting them to come outside. The fire was now burning so briskly on the hearth that the interior was well illuminated, so that their figures were plainly stamped against the yellow background. "There isn't anything left for you to do," said the captain, "so you may as well dismount." The firing, shouts, and yells came from a remote point in the bush, and were rapidly receding. Avon came down from his saddle, kissed his aunt, shook hands with his uncle, and spoke kindly to Dinah, who was proud of the handsome fellow. "Uncle," said he briskly, "what do you suppose, has become of your horse Jack and Thunderbolt?" "Taken off by the Comanches, or killed." "I suppose that is probable, but I shall make a search for them." Believing this could be done better on foot, he left the pony in charge of his relative and walked hastily into the bush.