to turn and take to his heels. An instant afterward, a dark object
bounded through the court, and, before the robber had taken half a dozen
steps, Marmion sprang upon his back, and threw him to the ground.

"Hurrah!" shouted Frank. "You are not gone yet, it seems. You're caught
now, easy enough; for that dog never lets go, if he once gets a good
hold. Hang on to him, old fellow!"

But Marmion seemed to be utterly unable to manage the Ranchero. He had
placed his fore-feet upon Pierre's breast, and appeared to be holding
him by the throat; but the latter, with one blow of his arm, knocked him
off, and, regaining his feet, fled through the grove with the speed of
the wind--the piece of the lasso, which was still around his neck,
streaming straight out behind him.

"Take him, Marmion!" yelled Frank, astonished to see his dog so easily
defeated. "Take him! Hi! hi!"

The animal evidently did his best to obey; but there seemed to be
something the matter with him. He ran as if he were dragging a heavy
weight behind him, or as if his feet were tied together, and it was all
he could do to keep up with the robber; and, when he tried to seize
him, Pierre would shake him off without even slackening his pace.

Mr. Winters, in the meantime, had run to his horse--which, during the
struggle, had stood perfectly still in the middle of the court--after
his pistols; but, before he could get an opportunity to use them, both
Pierre and the dog had disappeared among the trees. A moment afterward,
a horse was heard going at full speed through the grove, indicating that
the robber was leaving the ranch as fast as possible.