Faint yells from their pursuers and the waving of rifles by upflung arms greeted the stoppage of their party. The cowman cut rapidly at the tufts of kinky hair that held Blaze fast, while Scotty yanked out his big rifle and ran back a short way to hide behind the cover of a giant saguarro. The distance between the parties closed up rapidly; to one mile, to half a mile, while Blaze whined and groaned, with mute fang laid protestingly on Big John’s bony hands as one by one the cat-claws were cut loose from his coat. Then the .405 whanged out and its bullets screamed high in the air. A puff of dust flew up in front of the Mexican rider’s mustang and he checked his horse viciously. The Indians around him, looking more like a collection of disreputable tramps than the real thing, reined up and presently puffs of white smoke came from them, followed by the faint pop of their weapons. At one of the shots Niltci suddenly threw up his arms and tumbled off his horse. Sid gasped with dismay, but to his astonishment the Indian boy was now wriggling off through the sage like a snake! He left his gaudy Navaho blanket behind, though, and Sid caught Big John’s eye winking at him. Evidently this was part of a ruse! “You, Sid--make believe you was bending over something,” grunted Big John. “Thar, Blaze, yore free, old-timer! Now bring me that flea-bitten cayuse of Niltci’s, Siddy boy.” Grinning, the youth held Niltci’s horse for him while Big John flung the blanket over Blaze, lifted him up on the saddle, and sprawled him out with his collar tied fast to the pommel horn. “Come on in, son!” roared Big John to Scotty as he threw a turn of rope around the dog’s back and vaulted up on the white mustang himself. “Now ride for all yore wuth, boys!” “But Niltci--how come?” gasped Sid. “Are we going to leave him?” “Never mind Niltci--he’s some busy, ’bout now. Hep, boys!” retorted Big John, putting spurs to the mustang. Indeed, as Sid looked around for him, Niltci had disappeared as if the earth had swallowed him up. He himself rode on lightheartedly. Shots rang out behind them and the puff of sandspurts kicked up the desert floor near by, but the Papagoes’ shooting was wild and the range a good deal too great as yet. The four horses swung down toward the first ’dobe house and Big John quickly led Niltci’s cayuse behind it and stopped them all. “Them Injuns _may_ hev taken Blaze under the blanket fer Niltci wounded--an’ again they mayn’t! We’ve got ’em guessin’ anyhow,” he grinned, peering out around the corner. “Sid, you take the hosses to the pawnd, an’ water ’em, while Scotty and I sorter dally with these excited hombres a leetle.” He dragged out his old meat gun, a .35 with a mouth like a young cannon and a knockout punch. “C’mon, Scotty, le’s mosey!”