The moon shone clear and full upon the prairie, lighting up this unique, double chase. First—far ahead, almost invisible in the dim, deceitful light, sped the strange woman rider, the spotted mustang running freely and seemingly at ease. Close behind—in fact not more than a hundred yards, thundered the dark figure of the young ranger, urging on his noble “buck-skin” with both voice and spur. A mile further to the rear was Ned Campbell, his big bay holding its own, if not slowly gaining upon the two foremost racers. Gradually losing ground, on struggled the others, bringing up the rear. Bitterly Hawksley regretted having so severely taxed his animal during the day. Were he fresh now, there was little doubt as to how the chase would terminate. The spotted mustang would speedily be forced to acknowledge its master. But now? With varying hope and fear, Fred urged his horse on. He scarcely knew what to think. At times the spotted creature seemed laboring heavily, at others to be running well within himself. Could it be that this strange woman was _playing_ with him? Fred bit his lip and pressed his spurs home. With an angry snort, the big horse plunged forward with lightning speed. Ned Campbell was urging his horse to the utmost, and in his anxiety concerning his friend, he neglected his usual caution, unfortunately for all concerned. Fearing to lose sight of the chase, his gaze was bent ahead, as he gained the crest of a swell. A loud cheer burst from his lips as he caught sight of his friend, seemingly riding close beside the strange woman. As he turned his head to cheer on his friends, Ned felt his horse suddenly stumble, and then came insensibility. The big bay horse had stepped into the burrow of a gopher, and stumbling, fell with violence, casting its rider far over its head. Campbell lay like one dead, and forgetting all else in their anxiety regarding his welfare, the young hunters dismounted and crowded round him. Thus a full half-hour was lost; momentous minutes to their friend Fred Hawksley. Only for that unfortunate stumble, how much that followed might have been spared! Though considerably bruised, when he returned to consciousness, Campbell found that no bones were broken. Almost his first thought was for his horse. It stood near by, leisurely cropping the grass, in nowise injured by the _contretemps_. Ned uttered a little exclamation, as he glanced around him. He counted eight forms besides his own. Then he glanced over the prairie in which direction he had last noted his young friend. It was clear and unobstructed. Hawksley and the strange rider had disappeared. “You ought to have followed on, boys. I fear that Fred is running into some snare. Do you take the trail now. I remember the point where I last saw them. I’ll ride on ahead. Don’t lose any time, but keep the right track. Fred’s life may depend upon it.”