across the tree trunks all they could not use or carry. Another minute
and they reached their horses, where the Panther, panting from his huge
exertions, joined them. Ned helped the lame man upon one of the horses,
the weakest two who remained, including the boy, were put upon the
others, and led by the Panther they started northward, leaving the
chaparral.

It was a singular march, but for a long time nothing was said. The sound
of the Mexican stampede could yet be heard, moving to the south, but
they, rescuers and rescued, walked in silence save for the sound of
their feet in the mud of the wind-swept plain. Ned looked curiously at
the faces of those whom they had saved, but the night had not lightened,
and he could discern nothing. They went thus a full quarter of an hour.
The noise of the stampede sank away in the south, and then the Panther
laughed.

It was a deep, hearty, unctuous laugh that came from the very depths of
the man's chest. It was a laugh with no trace of merely superficial joy.
He who uttered it laughed because his heart and soul were in it. It was
a laugh of mirth, relief and triumph, all carried to the highest degree.
It was a long laugh, rising and falling, but when it ceased and the
Panther had drawn a deep breath he opened his mouth again and spoke the
words that were in his mind.

"I shorely did some rippin' an' roarin' then," he said. "It was the best
chance I ever had, an' I guess I used it. How things did work for us!
Them sleepy sentinels, an' then the stampede of the animals, carryin'
Urrea an' the rest right away with it."

"Fortune certainly worked for us," said Ned.