"When you put it that way," said he, "you take all the fight out of J.D." "Then I must even beg you to be gone, sir, before there is any chance of pursuit by these men," said Apache Kid. "If we come back alive, we may all call and thank you again, and Miss Pinkerton too. I beg of you to go and take care of meeting them on the way." "Well, boys, luck to you all, then," and round he wheeled and away with a swirl of leather while the half-breed laid the quirt, that swung at his wrist, to his lean pony’s flanks and, with a nod to us, shot after Mr. Pinkerton. We watched them till they had almost crested the rise and there suddenly they stopped, wheeled, and next moment had dismounted. "What’s wrong?" said Donoghue. "Something wrong there." "It looks as if the chance Pinkerton spoke of was against us after all," said Apache Kid, quietly. We were not left long in doubt, for a puff of smoke rose near the backbone of the rise and a flash of a rifle and then seven mounted men swept down on these two. We saw the half-breed tug at his horse’s head; saw the brute sink down to its knees, saw the half-breed fling himself on his belly behind it, and then his rifle flashed. The seven riders spread out as they charged down on the two and at the flash of the rifle we saw one of them fall from the saddle and his horse rear and wheel, then spin round and dash madly across the valley, dragging the fallen rider by a stirrup for quite a way, with a hideous bumping and rebounding. But it was on the two dismounted men on the hill-front that my attention was concentrated, and round them the remaining six of their assailants were now circling. "Come on!" cried Apache Kid. He dropped the reins of our pack-horse to the ground and remarked: "She ’ll not go far with the rein like that and the pack on her." Next moment we three were tituping along the valley in the direction of the two held-up men. Apache Kid was a little ahead of me, Donoghue a length behind, but Donoghue’s mount would not suffer us to go in that order long. With a snort it bore Donoghue abreast of me and I clapped my heels to the flanks of my beast. Next moment we were all in line, with the wind whistling in our ears. The six men who seemed to be parleying with Pinkerton and the half-breed, suddenly catching sight of us in our charge, I suppose, wheeled about and went at a wild gallop, with dirt flying from their horses’ hoofs, slanting across the hill. And then I had an exhibition of Donoghue’s madness. He cried out an oath, the most terrible I ever heard, and, "Come on, boys," he shouted to us. "Yes, let’s settle it to-day," came Apache’s voice. "Right now!" cried Donoghue, and away we went after the fugitives.