"We must catch them, if possible, before they gain yonder timber land."
"Thet's so. If we don't, it won't be no easy work to locate 'em in the brush."
The party of thirteen were all fair riders, but for once the number seemed fated to be really unlucky. Less than quarter of a mile had been covered when one of the mustangs, going at full speed, stepped into the hole of some wild animal, and pitched headlong with a broken leg. The rider behind the one to go down, pitched in on top of him, and in a thrice there lay on the prairie a mustang so badly injured that he had to be shot, and two men so bruised that further pursuit for them of the Mexicans was out of the question.
"Halt!" cried Lieutenant Radbury, and brought the balance of his command to a stand still. "Are you much hurt, Readwell?"
"I—I reckon not," was the answer, but when Readwell attempted to stand up he found his foot and back badly strained.
"And you, Alton?"
"My left arm is bruised,—I don't know but what it is broken."
"The mustang is done fer," put in Poke Stover, after examining Readwell's steed. "Might as well shoot him, and put him out of his misery."
This was ordered by the lieutenant, and the command carried out on the spot. The second
