Now he prepared for battle, and, as he ran, he kept his eye on the ground in order that he might choose his own field.

He saw it presently, a mass of fallen timber thrown together by a great storm, and he took his place on the highest log, out of reach of a leaping hound. Then, lying almost flat on the log and with his rifle ready, he waited, his heart beating hard with anger that he should be pursued thus like an animal.

The howling of the hounds grew more ferocious, and it was tinged with joy. The trail had suddenly grown very hot, and they knew that the quarry was just before them. Dick caught a good view of a long, lean, racing figure bounding among the trees, and he fired straight at a spot between the blazing eyes. The hound fell without a sound, and with equal ease he slew the second. The third and last drew back, although the lad heard the distant halloo of men seeking to drive him on.

Dick sprang from his log and ran through the forest again. He knew that the lone hound after his first recoil would follow, but he had his reloaded rifle and he had proved that he knew how to shoot. It would please him for the hound to come within range.

When he took to renewed flight the hound again whined ferociously and Dick glanced back now and then seeking a shot. Once he caught a glimpse of two or three dusky figures some distance behind the hound, urging him on, and his heart throbbed with increased rage. If they presented an equal target he would fire at them rather than the hound.

He could run no longer, and his gait sank to a walk. His very exhaustion brought him his opportunity, as the animal came rapidly within range, and Dick finished him with a single lucky shot. Then, making an extreme effort, he fled on a long time, and, while he was fleeing, he saw the sun set and the night come.

The strain upon him had been so great that his nerves and brain were unsteady. Although the forest was black with night he saw it through a blood-red mist. Something in him was about to burst, and when he saw a human figure rising up before him it broke and he fell.

Dick was unconscious a long time. But when he awoke he found himself wrapped in a blanket, while another was doubled under his head. It was pitchy dark, but he beheld the outline of a human figure, sitting by his side. He strove to rise, but a powerful hand on his shoulder pushed him back, though gently, and a low voice said:

"Stay still, Mr. Mason. We mustn't make any sound now!"

Dick recognized in dim wonder the voice of Sergeant Daniel Whitley. How he had come there at such a time, and what he was doing now was past all guessing, but Sergeant Whitley was a most competent man. He knew more than most generals, and he was filled with the lore of the woods. He would trust him. He let his head sink back on the folded blanket, and his heavy eyes closed again.

When Dick roused from his stupor the sergeant was still by his side, and, as his eyes grew used to the darkness, he noticed that Whitley was really kneeling rather than sitting, crouched to meet danger, his finger on the trigger of a rifle. Dick's brain cleared and he sat up.

"What is it, Sergeant?" he whispered.

"I see you're all right now, Mr. Mason," the sergeant whispered back, "but be sure you don't stir."

"Is it the Johnnies?"

"Lean over a little and look down into that dip."

Dick did so, and saw four men hunting among the trees, and the one who seemed to be their leader was the little weazened fellow, with the great, flap-brimmed hat.

"They're looking for your trail," whispered the sergeant, "but they won't find it. It's too dark, even for a Sioux Indian, and I've seen them do some wonderful things in trailing."

"I seem to have met you in time, Sergeant."

"So you did, sir, but more of that later. Perhaps you'd better lie down again, as you're weak yet. I'll tell you all they do."

"I'll take your advice, Sergeant, but am I sound and whole? I felt something in me break, and then the earth rose up and hit me in the face."

"I reckon it was just the last ounce of breath going out of you with a pop. They're hunting hard, Mr. Mason, but they can't pick up the trace of a footstep.