time, for they were running toward him at top speed.

Instantly, upon their leader giving them the order to fire, the men
raised their weapons, taking quick, careful aim, and pulled the
triggers.

Their bullets whistled far above the head of the fleeing boy, as the
ground was sloping and he was traveling downward rapidly.

"Keep it up. You may get in a chance shot. No, stop. Take to the
ponies."

Three of them, including the leader, cast loose the remaining
animals, and springing upon their backs, spurred the bronchos into a
run. They were in hot pursuit of the lad now, with freshly loaded
guns ready to fire the instant they came within range of him.

Tad's pony was crashing through the brush, making such a racket that
there could be no trouble about their keeping on the trail. They
needed no light by which to follow it unerringly.

The boy soon came to a realization of this. Then again the men were
so much more familiar with mountain riding that he felt sure they
would eventually overhaul him. Even now they were gaining. There
could be no doubt of that.

"I'll ride as long as I can, then I'll try to get away from them
some other way," he decided.

The moment was rapidly approaching when he would be forced to resort