"Buck!" he said, as though talking to a human being, "you and me have been through a heap together--don't fall down on me, now!--Take the kid safe, old boy!" He caught Ches up and threw him across the saddle. "You'll only have to tell 'em what's happened--the Lord send nothing happens to you! Good-by, you brave little devil--we'll win out yet. Go it, Buck!" And while one of Jim's friends plied pick and shovel like a mad man, the other was swaying on top of a galloping horse, gripping the pommel of the saddle with all the strength he had, and shutting his eyes when he came to the high places. Captain Hanrahan's party were miners of substance. They were working their way out to a new country to suit their inclinations. It had just been suggested that it was perhaps time to hit the trail again when the captain saw a figure on a horse flying athwart the mountain side--the regular road was bad enough, but Bud had short cuts of his own, and Buck followed his usual way. "Huh!" said the captain, "that man's drunk or crazy?" "Holy sufferin'!" gasped the man next him, as the yellow horse slipped on a turn and sent a shower of gravel a thousand feet below. "That was a near touch," as the horse caught himself and swept on. "Looks to me like a case of trouble, Cap," said a third speaker. "That ain't no man, anyhow--it's only a boy." "Horse running away with him, probably--his folks ought to be clubbed for letting him out on such an animal. Well, spread out, boys, and we'll catch him." But Buck stopped in two jumps, at Ches' command of "Whoa!" "Fren's!" cried the boy, "me pardner's caught in a tunnel dat caved in on him. Kin yer help us out? Three mile above Jones's Hill." He had not finished the sentence before two men sprang for the horses. The rest grabbed picks and shovels and hurled them into the wagon. "We'll be there, hell-a-whooping," said Captain Hanrahan. "T'anks!" replied Ches weakly, and then the world went out. The captain caught him as he fell. "Poor little cuss! He rid hard to help his pardner!" said the captain. "Hump yourselves, boys--all ready! Got the whisky, Pete? Picks enough? Stick the axes where they won't jump loose and cut a leg off some of us. Tie the horse behind--good animal, that. All right, let 'em go!" They went. Over stones and gulleys, the tools clanging and banging fit to leap from the wagon, the men clinging to the side-boards for dear life. Down hill-sides like the slant of a roof, the horses keeping out of the way of the wagon; up the other side with the reeking animals straining every fiber; over bridges that bent fearfully beneath the shock of their onset; swaying around curves with the wheels sluing and sparks flying, and over the level as though the devil himself were behind them.