He sent back a taunting cry, twirled his own rifle in defiance, and then remembered that it was the slender, long-barreled Kentucky weapon, the highest of its type. He took another glance backward, but this was a measuring one. "It will reach," was his thought. He turned his whole body from the hips up in his saddle, took swift aim at the leading Comanche, and fired. The white smoke puffed from the muzzle of his rifle, the report was uncommonly loud and sharp in the night, and the bullet went home. The leading Indian fell from his pony in the snow, and the pony ran away. A fierce cry of rage came from the Comanches. "It was well done, Herr Philip," said Arenberg. He did not look back, but he knew from the cry of the Indians that Phil’s bullet had struck its target. The Comanches dropped back somewhat, but they were still near enough to keep the two flying horses in sight. Phil and Arenberg maintained their course, which was leading far from The Silver Cup. Phil’s brain was cooling with the long gallop, and his nerves were becoming steadier. The change in himself caused him to notice other changes around him. The air felt damp to his face, and the night seemed to have grown darker. He thought at first that it was mere fancy, but when he looked up he knew that it was the truth. He could not see the moon, and, just as he looked, the last star winked and went out. The damp touch on his face was that of a snowflake, and, as he still looked, the dark clouds stalked somberly across the sky. "The snow! the snow," he murmured in eager prayer. "Let it come! It will save us!" Another and larger flake dropped on his face, and--after it, came more, falling fast now, large and feathery. He looked back for the last time. Not a single pursuer could be seen in the heavy gloom. He felt that their chance had come. He rode up by the side of Arenberg. "Hans," he said, "turn sharp to the south. Look how the snow comes down! It is impossible for them to follow us now. It does not matter how we blunder along except that we must keep close together." "It iss good," said Arenberg, as he turned his horse’s head. "The great God is putting a veil about us, and we are saved!" He spoke with unaffected solemnity, and Phil felt that his words were true. He felt, too, that they would not have escaped had it not been for the great snow that was now coming down. Surely a power had intervened in their behalf. They rode southward for about an hour through forest, comparatively free from undergrowth, the two horses keeping so close together that the knees of their riders touched. The snow continued to fall, and they went on, always in a dense white gloom, leaving to their horses the choice of the path. They stopped finally under a huge tree, where they were sheltered, in some degree, from the snow, and Arenberg made the boy more comfortable on the saddle behind.