The road agent was tugging at the stone beneath which he had slipped
his bridle. "Can I help?" he asked, politely. But before he reached
the stage, he suddenly stopped with an imperative sweep of his arm
for silence. He stood motionless, his body bent to the ground,
leaning forward and staring down the trail. Then he sprang upright.
"You old fox!" he roared, "you're gaining time, are you?"

With a laugh he tore free his bridle and threw himself across his
horse. His legs locked under it, his hands clasped its mane, and with
a cowboy yell he dashed past the stage in the direction of Kiowa
City, his voice floating back in shouts of jeering laughter. From
behind him he heard Hunk Smith's voice answering his own in a cry for
"Help!" and from a rapidly decreasing distance the throb of many
hoofs. For an instant he drew upon his rein, and then, with a defiant
chuckle, drove his spurs deep into his horse's side.

Mrs. Truesdall also heard the pounding of many hoofs, as well as Hunk
Smith's howls for help, and feared a fresh attack. "Oh, what is it?"
she begged

"Soldiers from the fort," Hunk called, excitedly, and again raised
his voice in a long, dismal howl.

"Sounds cheery, doesn't it?" said the salesman; "referring to the
soldiers," he explained. It was his first coherent remark since the
Red Rider had appeared and disappeared.

"Oh, I hope they won't--" began Miss Post, anxiously.