Hinton hurried away, while Wells crept forward to the very edge of the deep but narrow gully beyond which the sounds of conflict were heard. Hardly had he secured a spot for observation, ere he was startled by the crash of the undergrowth and the voices of men not ten rods away. On toward the lieutenant’s place of concealment came the pursued and pursuers. The first was but a single man, whom Wells several times detected gliding along from tree to tree, keeping “under cover” like an experienced woodsman. He was closely pursued by a band of the guerrillas, all dismounted, who were making the hills echo with their demoniac yells. Slowly the fugitive retired, holding his foes at bay by his sagacious maneuvers. Wells became intensely excited over the scene, and resolved to rush at once to the brave fellow’s aid, but there lay before him the impassable gulf over which few men could bound. Finally the hunted man struck the gully, and saw at a glance that his retreat was cut off. The enemy saw it, too, for they set up a shout of commingled derision and pleasure, which so maddened the fugitive that he yelled: “Laugh away, you darn skunks. I’ll make more than one of your dirty carcasses food for the crows before I go under.” And suiting the words to action, he fired two successive shots from what, apparently, was a double-barrel fowling-piece. Two of the guerrillas must have fallen, for ferocious shrieks of agony followed. Wells could endure no more. There stood before him his brave friend William Nettleton, hunted by a dozen fiends who must soon overpower him if aid was not quickly given. He started backward for a couple of rods, then rushed with almost flying swiftness up to the gully, and bounded over its sharply-cut edge. For a moment his desperate leap arrested all attention. Nettleton deemed it a new adversary coming upon him from an unexpected quarter, and turned, knife in hand, to close in with his antagonist. What was his astonishment to welcome Lieutenant Wells to his arms! What a shout followed! The guerrillas quickly sought cover, not knowing how many others might be lurking on the opposite side of the ravine to give them a bloody welcome. “Wells, by the jumping jingo! Where _did_ you come from and where _is_ you going to? Give us yer hand and lend us yer revolver. Ah, got two of ’em. _Hooray!_ Down on yer knees quicker’n lightnin’, for the woman-murderers are after us, sharp!”