The four sat on their horses among the trees, darker shadows in the
shadow. Beyond the little grove they saw the plain rolling away on every
side bare to the horizon, except in the south, where the red glow always
threatened. Ned rode to the western edge of the grove in order to get a
better view. He searched the plain carefully with his keen vision, but
he could find no sign of life there in the west.
He turned Old Jack in order to rejoin his comrades, when he suddenly
heard a low sound from the east. He listened a moment, and then, hearing
it distinctly, he knew it. It was the thud of hoofs, and the horsemen
were coming straight toward the grove, which was two or three hundred
yards in width.
Owing to the darkness and the foliage Ned could not see his comrades,
but he started toward them at once. Then came a sudden cry, the rapid
beat of hoofs, the crack of shots, and a Mexican body of cavalry dashed
into the wood directly between the boy and his comrades. He heard once
the tremendous shout of the Panther and the wild Mexican yells. Two
horsemen fired at him and a third rode at him with extended lance.
It was Old Jack that saved Ned's life. The boy was so startled that his
brain was in a paralysis for a moment.
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