"Down the mountain; short cut;" he answered as he jerked the heavy
saddle from his horse and threw it under some nearby bushes.

"But they'll kill you. You can't never face that whole crowd
alone."

"I can do it better'n Dad, and him not a lookin' for them."

Slipping the bridle from the sorrel, he turned the animal loose,
and, removing his coat and hat, laid them with the saddle. Then to
the girl on the pony he said sharply o on, Sammy. Why don't you
go on? Don't you see how you're losin' time? Them devils will do
for Dad Howitt like they done for old man Lewis. Your father's the
only man can stop 'em now. Ride hard, girl, and tell Jim to hurry.
And--and, good-by, Sammy." As he finished, he spoke to her horse
and struck him such a blow that the animal sprang away.

For a moment Sammy attempted to pull up her startled pony. Then
Young Matt saw her lean forward in the saddle, and urge the little
horse to even greater speed. As they disappeared down the road,
the giant turned and ran crashing through the brush down the steep
side of the mountain. There was no path to follow. And with deep
ravines to cross, rocky bluffs to descend or scale, and, in
places, wild tangles of vines and brush and fallen trees, the trip
before him would have been a hard one even in the full light of
day. At night, it was almost impossible, and he must go like a
buck with the dogs in full cry.

When Sammy came in sight of her home, she began calling to her
father, and, as the almost exhausted horse dashed up to the big