the chase.

hamersley has his horse fairly astretch ere the fugitives, though out of sight, are many hundred yards ahead; for the scenes and speeches recorded occupied but a few seconds of time.

he is confident of being able to overtake them. he knows his kentucky charger is more than a match for any mexican horse, and will soon bring him up with uraga and the other officer. if they should separate he will follow the former.

as he rides on he sees they cannot go far apart. there is a sheer precipice on each side—the bluffs that bound the creek bottom. these will keep the pursued men together, and he will have both to deal with.

the ground is such that they cannot possibly escape him except by superior speed. he can see the cliffs on each side to their bases. there is not enough underwood for a horseman to hide in.

he hastens on, therefore, supposing them still before him.

in ten minutes more he is sure of it—they are in sight!

the timber through which the chase has hitherto led abruptly terminates, a long grassy mead of over a mile in length lying beyond; and beyond it the trees again obstruct the vista up the valley. the retreating horsemen have entered upon this open tract, but not got far over it, when hamersley spurs his horse out of the timber tract, and pursuer and pursued are in sight of other.

it is now a tail-on-end chase, all three horses going at the greatest speed to which their riders can press them. it is evident that the large american horse is rapidly gaining upon the mexican mustangs, and, if no accident occur, will soon be alongside them.

hamersley perceives this, and, casting a glance ahead, calculates the distance to where the timber again commences. to overtake them before they can reach it is the thought uppermost in his mind. once among the tree-trunks they can go as fast as he, for there the superior fleetness of his horse will not avail. besides, there may be a thick underwood, giving them a chance of concealment.

he must come up with them before they can reach the cover, and to this end he once more urges his animal both with spur and speech.

at this moment roblez looking back, perceives there is but one man in chase of them. a long stretch of open plain in his rear, and no other pursuer upon it. brigand though he be, the adjutant possesses real courage. and there are two of them, in full health and strength, both armed with sabres, himself carrying a pair of dragoon pistols in his holsters. those belonging to uraga are nearer to the hand of hamersley—having been left upon the saddle which the colonel, in his hasty retreat, had been hindered from occupying.

“carajo!” exclaims roblez, “there’s but one of them after us. the others haven’t had time to get mounted, and won’t be up for a while. it’s some rash fool who’s got your horse under him. let’s turn upon him, colonel.”

the coward thus appealed to cannot refuse compliance. in an instant the two wheel round, and, with blades bared, await the approach of the pursuer.

in a dozen more strides of his horse hamersley is on the ground. uraga now recognises his antagonist in the chihuahua duel—the man he hates above all others on earth.

this, hatred, intense as it is, does not supply him with courage. in the eye of the pursuer coming on, when close up, uraga reads a terrible expression—that of the avenger!

something whispers him his hour has come, and with shrinking heart and palsied arm he awaits the encounter.

as said, the two mexican officers carry swords, cavalry sabres. against these the kentuckian has no weapon for parrying or defence. he is but ill-armed for the unequal strife, having only a colt’s revolver with one chamber empty, and, as a dernier ressort, the single-barrelled pistols in the holsters.

quickly perceiving his disadvantage, he checks up before coming too close, and with his revolver takes aim, and fires at the nearest of his antagonists, who is roblez.

the shot tells, tumbling the lancer lieutenant out of his saddle, and making more equal the chances of the strife.

but there is no more fighting, nor the show of it, for uraga, on seeing his comrade fall, and once more catching sight of that avenging glance that glares at him as if from the eyes of nemesis, wrenches the mustang round, and rides off in wild retreat; his sword, held loosely, likely to drop from his grasp.

soon it does drop, for hamersley, following in close pursuit, delivers a second shot from the revolver. the bullet hits the extended sword arm; the naked blade whirls out, and falls with a ring upon the meadow turf.

uraga rides on without looking back. he has not even courage to turn his face towards his antagonist. he thinks only of reaching the timber, in a despairing hope he may there find shelter and safety.

it is not his destiny to reach it; the pursuer is too close upon his heels. the head of hamersley’s horse is swept by the mustang’s tail, its long, white hair spread comet-like behind.

once more the revolver is raised, its muzzle pointed at the retreating coward. the pressing of its trigger would send a bullet into his back. it is not pressed.

as if from mercy or mere caprice hamersley suddenly transfers the pistol to his left hand. then, forcing his horse to a long leap forward, he lays hold of uraga with his right.

grasping the mexican by the sword-belt and jerking him out of the saddle, he dashes him down to the earth. then reining up, with the revolver once more in his right hand, he cries out—

“lie still, you ruffian! don’t move an inch! i have four shots to spare, and if you attempt to stir, one of them will quiet you.”

the admonition is not needed. uraga, stunned by the shock for a time, makes no movement. he is insensible.

before he comes to himself the rangers have ridden up, with walt wilder at their head. they proceed to make prisoners of the two men, neither of whom has been killed in the encounter.

better for both if they had. for they are now in the hands of men who will surely doom them to a death less easy thar that they had escaped.

their fate is inevitable.