rapidly mounting a horse, while two others struggled on the ground.

He dashed forward. As he did so, one of the men on the ground freed
himself, sprang to his feet, mounted his horse, and was away into the
night with his companion. Orlando slid to the ground beside the figure
which was slowly raising itself from the ground.

"What's the matter? Are you all right? Have they hurt you?" he asked,
as he stooped over and caught the shoulders of the victim of the two
fleeing figures.

At that instant there were two more pistol-shots, and a bullet hit the
ground beside Orlando. Then he saw dimly the face of the man whom he was
helping to his feet.

"Mazarine! Good Lord-Mazarine!" he said in an anxious voice. "What
have they done to you?" "Nothing--I'm all right. The dogs, the rogues,
the thieves--but they didn't get it! It was in the pockets of my shirt."
The old man was almost hysterical. "You just come in time, Mr. Guise.
You frightened 'em off. They'd have found it, if it hadn't been for
you."

"Found what?" asked Orlando, as he helped the old man towards the camp-
fire, himself in pain, and a dizziness coming over him.

"Found your six thousand dollars that Burlingame paid me to-day," gasped
the old man, spasmodically; "but it's here-it's here!" He caught at his
breast with devouring greed.

Somehow the agitated joy of the old man revolted Orlando. He had a