He turned the flaming lance around the horizon, until it completed the circle and then he started around with it again.  Meantime he was keeping a close watch upon every high point.  A hill rose in the north, and he looked at it longest, but nothing came from it.  There was another, but lower, hill in the west, and before he had completed the second round with his glass a light flashed from it.  It was a brilliant light, almost like a sheaf of white incandescent rays.  He lowered his own mirror and the light played directly upon his hill.  When it ceased he sent back answering rays, to which, when he stopped, a rejoinder came in like fashion.  Then he put the little mirror back in the safe pocket of his hunting shirt and rode with perfect confidence toward that western hill.

The crest that Ned sought was several miles away, although it looked much nearer in the thin clear air of the plains, but he rode now at increased speed, because there was much to draw him on.  Old Jack seemed to share in his lightness of spirit, raising his head once and neighing, as if he were sending forth a welcome.

The boy soon saw two figures upon the hill, the shapes of horse and man, outlined in black against the sun, which was now declining in the west.  They were motionless and they were exaggerated into gigantic stature against the red background.  Ned knew them, although the distance was far too great to disclose any feature.  But signal had spoken truly to signal, and that was enough.  Old Jack made a fresh burst of speed and presently neighed once more.  An answering neigh came back from the hill.

Ned rode up the slope and greeted Obed White and the Ring Tailed Panther with outstretched hands.

“And it’s you, my boy,” said Obed, his eyes glistening.  “Until we saw your signal we were afraid that you might have frozen to death in the Norther, but it’s a long lane that has no happy ending, and here we are, all three of us, alive, and as well as ever.”

“That’s so,” said the Panther, “but even when the storm was at its worst I didn’t give up, Ned.  Somehow, when things are at the blackest I’m always hopin’.  I don’t take any credit fur it.  I was just born with that kind of a streak in me.”

Ned regarded him with admiration.  The Ring Tailed Panther was certainly a gorgeous object.  He rode a great black horse with a flowing mane.  He was clad completely in a suit of buckskin which was probably without a match on the border.  It and his moccasins were adorned with thick rows of beads of many colors, that glittered and flashed as the sunlight played upon them.  Heavy silver spurs were fastened to his heels, and his hat of broad brim and high cone in the Mexican fashion was heavy with silver braid.  His saddle also was of the high, peaked style, studded with silver.  The Panther noticed Ned’s smile of appraisement and smiled back.

“Ain’t it fine?” he said.  “I guess this is about the beautifullest outfit to be found in either Texas or Mexico.  I bought it all in honor of our victory just after we took San Antonio, and it soothes my eyes and makes my heart strong every time I look at it.”