The hoof-beats changed to thunder, and with the pounding on the dry
trail came the jangle of stirrups and sling-belts. Then a voice, and
the coach was surrounded by dust-covered troopers and horses
breathing heavily. Lieutenant Crosby pulled up beside the window of
the stage. "Are you there, Colonel Patten?" he panted. He peered
forward into the stage, but no one answered him. "Is the paymaster in
here?" he demanded.

The voice of Lieutenant Curtis shouted in turn at Hunk Smith. "Is the
paymaster in there, driver?"

"Paymaster? No!" Hunk roared. "A drummer and three ladies. We've been
held up. The Red Rider--" He rose and waved his whip over the top of
the coach. "He went that way. You can ketch him easy."

Sergeant Clancey and half a dozen troopers jerked at their bridles.
But Crosby, at the window, shouted "Halt!"

"What's your name?" he demanded of the salesman.

"Myers," stammered the drummer. "I'm from the Hancock Uniform--"

Curtis had spurred his horse beside that of his brother officer. "Is
Colonel Patten at Kiowa?" he interrupted.

"I can't give you any information as to that," replied Mr. Myers,
importantly; "but these ladies and I have just been held up by the
Red Rider. If you'll hurry you'll--"

The two officers pulled back their horses from the stage and, leaning