"Make your horse lie down," called the elder. Avon had already determined on this recourse, and seizing the head of his animal he ordered him down. Thunderbolt was well trained, but the hurt already received made him restless, and his young master had to engage in a partial struggle before he gathered his legs under him and rolled over on his side. The instant he did so Avon knelt behind his body and was in the most favorable posture for defense. Captain Shirril's task proved more difficult. His horse refused to go down at his command, and it was necessary to throw him. He resisted with such vigor that his owner dropped his rifle and was forced to use his utmost strength before he could trip and bring him to the earth. He still fought, and the captain, losing patience for the moment, forgot the whistling missiles and gave his whole attention to the brute, which he speedily conquered. Avon was on the point of offering help, when he perceived that the mustang was mastered, and he once more turned to the enemy, now pressing his advantage to the utmost. The Comanches were so close, and the opportunity for aiming effectively was so good, that the shots of the youth began to tell. Had the red men been compelled to maintain one position in front, a single person with a repeating Winchester could have stood off the whole party; but, as has been explained, the Indians were on every hand. But Avon was not throwing away his cartridges. The very first shot bored its way through the bronzed skull of a shrieking warrior, and the second slew his pony with such suddenness that the two rolled together on the plain, the warrior being unable to extricate himself from beneath his struggling mustang. The young man, finding no one in his immediate front, turned toward a couple that were advancing from another point, but before he could make his aim sure, he was shocked to hear a groan from Captain Shirril. "Are you hit?" asked the nephew, turning his scared face toward him. "Yes, but still able to do something; bring your horse to his feet and make a dash for the camp. There isn't an earthly chance for us here." "But I cannot leave you, uncle, and, if I could it would be impossible to run the gauntlet." "It's our only hope; my horse is too badly hurt to carry me off, but you may succeed, if you ride hard." "It won't do," replied the nephew, who, had the prospect been ten-fold more favorable, could not have deserted his relative at such a time. "Hurrah!" he exclaimed the next moment, "yonder come the boys!" He had caught sight of their friends approaching over the ridge, their animals on a dead run. "They will be too late," said Captain Shirril, whose horse at that moment received another shot and renewed his frantic struggles to regain his feet. His owner interposed, but, he, too, was wounded and unable to put forth the strength that had conquered the brute a moment before. Avon would have gone to his help had there been anything to gain by it.