Twice he fired, but without apparent effect. The Night-Hawk leader sprung into a saddle, then urged his horse to rapid flight. Colton promptly imitated this action, and the two, pursued and pursuer, soon disappeared without the line of light shed by the blazing dwelling. “Look to these devils, Ruel,” hurriedly uttered Campbell, as he looked around upon the scene. “If any are living bind them. We’ll have a hanging bee here to-morrow!” “Oh, Ned!” sobbed Mrs. Colton, “come to Henry—quick! He’s dying!” “No—he’s only hurt a little, not much. He’ll be all right in a minute or two,” soothingly uttered Campbell, though far from being so confident in his heart. “How is it, Colton, old fellow?” The settler smiled faintly, then murmured his wife’s name. She was beside him in a moment, and then, with her hand clasped in his, he swooned. “Now, Mary,” uttered Ned, as firmly as he could, “be strong—nerve yourself, for on you may depend Henry’s life. If you take on this way it’ll kill him, sure.” “I will—I’ll be calm. But is there hope—he is not dead?” “Pooh! far from it. You’ll not be a widow for many a long year yet, my dear sister. It’s only loss of blood, with the excitement, you see.” While he spoke, Campbell was carefully examining Colton’s wound, and to his great joy, found that he had told the truth, unknowingly. Only one bullet had struck him, severing a minor artery in the left thigh, causing a profuse flow of blood, but nothing that rest and quiet would not cure. “What d’ y’ think, Ned?” muttered Ruel, his face black with suppressed anger, “What d’ y’ think them imps hev done?” “What?” demanded Campbell, alarmed. “Shot them dorgs—every one, dead es a nit!” “Is that all? You startled me half to death!” “All—_all_? Them dorgs—the best in Texas—truer’n death—oh thunder!” spluttered Ruel. “Never mind ’em—are there any horses around besides ours?” “Yes—them what was rid by those car’on.” “The boys must ride further, then. We must rouse the neighbors. Colton and his wife need care, and then we must hunt down the villains that escaped. Besides, there’s Fred—he must be found.” With a grieved look at the carcasses of his favorite “dorgs,” Ruel strode off to set the hunters at work. An hour later the wounded man and his wife were on the way to shelter, and Ruel was leading the hunt after those who had killed his dogs. CHAPTER IV. THE BARANCA MYSTERY. It was a bitter blow to the Night-Hawk leader, Jasper Morton, to see his long-worked-for revenge thus snatched from his very grasp, just as the game seemed entirely in his own hands. Long-worked-for, we say, for the reader must have seen that his was no common enmity toward the two brothers; why, may be explained hereafter.