"I got your note—the one you left in the safe—"
"But that was for the agent."
"Yes, I know—I opened it by mistake."
"My, but those fellows did fight wicked," the messenger remarked as he picked up his empty gun and began to kick the shell out. "Hope that was old Huerfano himself that went over the bluff."
"The devil you do."
"Say! are you bleeding inside?" asked the messenger, as his companion sank to the ground with the air of a tired man.
"I reckon so. Can you set a hoss?"
"No," said the messenger; "but if you've got a horse, for heaven's sake take this money and go, for those wolves will return, and I'd rather they'd get me without the money than the money without me, or what is more likely now, both of us, and the money, too."
The dark man put two fingers to his lips, gave a shrill, wild whistle, and a beautiful horse—black as night—came leaping up from the gulch behind him.
"My! but you're a verdant youth," said the
