"Go to Fort Yuma for the doctor, at once!" shouted Frank, pounding
loudly upon the door.

"What's up?" inquired Felix, from the inside.

"No matter what's up--go for the doctor! Take Roderick; he's the
swiftest horse on the ranch. Uncle's badly wounded."

"Wounded!" repeated Felix, jerking open the door, and appearing upon the
threshold, with a revolver in each hand. "Who did it? Where is he?"

"I can't stop to tell you who did it, or where he is. Hurry up, Felix,
and don't stand there looking at me! We've just had the hardest kind of
a fight with Pierre. Marmion was there, but he didn't do any good. He
threw the villain down, and then wouldn't hold him. I've a good notion
to shoot that dog if he ever comes back. Make haste, Felix! I can't stop
to tell you any more."

But, after all, Frank did stop to tell a great deal more; and, by the
time the Ranchero was dressed, he had given him a complete history of
all that had happened in the house since sunset. Felix, astonished and
enraged at the treachery of his companion, examined his pistols very
carefully before he put them into his holsters, and Frank knew, by the
expression in his eye, that if he should happen to meet Pierre, during
his ride to the Fort, the latter would fall into dangerous hands.

As soon as Frank had seen Roderick saddled, he ran back to the house,
and found Uncle James lying on a sofa, and the housekeeper engaged in
dressing a long, ragged cut on the back of his head. Being weak from the
loss of blood, he sank into a deep slumber before the operation was