Quick! It is your life or mine. I'd hate to kill
you, Cameron. I give you one chance more."
There was no help for it, and Cameron, with his heart filled with futile
fury, surrendered his rifle.
"Now ride in front of me a little way. They have just seen us, but they
don't know that we are aware of their presence. Ride! Ride! A little
faster!" Nighthawk rushed upon Cameron's lagging pony. "There, that's
better."
A shout fell upon their ears.
"Go right along!" said Raven quietly. "Only a few minutes longer, then
we part. I have greatly enjoyed your company."
Another shout.
"Aha!" said Raven, glancing round. "It is, I verily believe it is my old
friend Sergeant Crisp. Only two of them, by Jove! If we had only known
we need not have hurried."
Another shout, followed by a bullet that sang over their heads.
"Ah, this is interesting--too interesting by half! Well, here goes for
you, sergeant!" He wheeled as he spoke. Turning swiftly in his saddle,
Cameron saw him raise his rifle.
"Hold up, you devil!" he shouted, throwing his pony across the black
broncho's track.
The rifle rang out, the police horse staggered, swayed, and pitched to
the earth, bringing his rider down with him.
"Ah, Cameron, that was awkward of you," said Raven gently. "However, it
is perhaps as well.
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