“We’ll take that sneer off yer face,” Curly remarked, as he stepped up close to Reynolds.  “We’ll make ye yell.”

“The same as you did at Glen West, I suppose?” Reynolds retorted.  “Your lungs must have been sore after such yelps.  Who showed the white liver then?”

Curly spat contemptuously at the captive, and motioned the men to bring a burning stick from the fire.  Several at once hastened to obey, tumbling over one another in their eagerness.  One, more active than the rest, extricated himself, seized a flaming torch, and rushed toward the prisoner.  He had almost reached him, and Reynolds felt that the moment of doom had arrived.  But just at this critical instant a peculiar noise fell upon his ears, and he listened intently.  Then his heart bounded with hope, for it was the sound of galloping horses.  His captors heard it, too, and the man carrying the torch hesitated and then stopped.  It was an ominous sound to them, and their hearts smote them with a great fear.  But they had little time for thought, for at once nine hundred pounds of quivering horse flesh, bone, and sinewy muscle leaped out of the darkness into their midst, and reared wildly when suddenly checked by a pair of strong, tense arms.  With head tossed high, and champing madly at his bits, Midnight reeled back almost upon his haunches in such a manner that an inexperienced rider would have been unhorsed in an instant.  But Glen was not in the least perturbed by the rearing steed, and maintained her seat with an easy composure.  In truth, she never thought about herself, but only of him whose life was in danger.

“Cowards!” she cried.  “Unloose that man!” and she pointed to Reynolds.

But no one moved to obey her imperious command.  The men stared as if she were an apparition, so sudden and unexpected was her arrival.  And in fact, she did seem like a leader of the legendary Valkyries, with her flashing eyes and wind-swept hair, mounted upon that prancing horse as black as night itself.  It was little wonder that the men trembled as they watched her, while several crossed themselves as if to ward off some malign influence.

Curly, who had staggered back aghast at this sudden intrusion, was the first to recover.  He glanced apprehensively around, as if meditating flight.  But Glen’s keen eyes detected his design, and she sternly ordered him to remain where he was.  Then she turned and spoke a few words to her followers in the Indian tongue.  At once a rapid movement took place, as the natives formed themselves in a circle around the white men and thus barred every avenue of escape.  This brought the miners somewhat to their senses, and seeing that their unwelcome visitors were not ghosts, their hands slipped to their hip-pockets.  But a mighty roar from Sconda paralyzed their hands, causing them to drop by their sides as the baffled men stared sullenly upon almost a score of rifles pointing straight at their hearts.