and neighing, mad with that fear of the unknown which is always at the
root of every stampede.

The automobile in which Ruth Fielding and her two friends, Helen and
Jennie, were seated was the last of the string. It seemed as though it
could not possibly escape the stampede of half-wild ponies, even if the
other cars did.

"Get down in the car, girls!" shouted Ruth, suiting her action to her
word. "Don't try to jump or stand up. Stoop!"

There was good reason for her command. The plunging horses seemed almost
upon the car. Indeed one leader--a big black stallion,--snorting and
blowing, jumped over the rear of the car, clearing it completely, and
bounded away upon the other side of the trail.

He was ahead of the main stampede, however. All that found the motor-car
in the path could not perform his feat. Some would be sure to plunge
into the car where Ruth and Helen and Jennie crouched.

Suddenly there rode into view, coming from the head of the string of
cars, a wild rider, plying whip and heel to maddened pinto pony.

"Wonota! Go back! You'll be killed!" shrieked Ruth. And then she added:
"The picture will be ruined if you are hurt."

Even had the Indian girl heard Ruth's cry she would have given it small
attention. Wonota was less fearful of the charging ponies than were the
punchers and professional riders working for Mr. Hammond.