“No, no!  Do not get off!  They will be sure to follow us and we must lose no time.  Take me up behind you and gallop for Laguna.  If we can catch the next train we’ll be all right!”

She seized his hand and sprang to her seat behind his saddle.  He turned and kissed her.

“Put spurs to your horse,” she said.  “They will be sure to follow us soon.”

There was need of haste, for scarcely had the horse pricked up his ears and sprung into a long gallop when they heard loud shouts from the top of the mesa.

“Hurry, hurry!” exclaimed Barbara.  “They have found me out and they will follow us!”

Scarcely had she spoken when the sound of a rifle report came from the top of the cliff, and Wemple’s left arm dropped helpless beside him.

“They dare not shoot to kill,” she said, “but they think they can frighten you, and they may cripple the horse.  My darling, you will not let them have me again?” The terror in her voice told how intense was her fear of capture.

“Sweetheart, they shall not have you again unless they kill me first!”

A dozen Indians were galloping recklessly down the steep trail.  “Promise me,” Barbara, pleaded, “if it comes to that, if you must die, you will kill me first!  For it would be hell—­it would be worse than hell—­to go back there now!”

Wemple did not answer.  “Promise me that you will,” she begged.  “You do not know what you would save me from; but believe me, and promise me that you will not send me back to it!”

“I promise!” he answered as another shot whistled in front of them and clipped the top of the horse’s ear.  Wemple dug his spurs into its sweating side and the beast sprang forward at a faster gallop.  The Indians, shouting loudly, were urging their ponies across the plain at breakneck speed.  Lieutenant Wemple glanced back again and a frown wrinkled his forehead, as he said, “If our horse does not break down we may keep ahead of them until we reach Laguna.”

[Illustration:  Wemple dug his spurs into its sweating side and the beast sprang forward at a faster gallop.]

Barbara patted the horse and whispered soft words of encouragement and then under her breath she sent up a fervent petition to the Virgin Mary to protect them.  Looking back, she recognized their pursuers, and told Wemple that one of them was her brother, and another was a young man whom her parents wished her to marry.  This one had a faster horse than the others and perceptibly gained upon the fugitives.  He left the road where a turn in it seemed to offer an advantage and, galloping across the plain, was presently parallel with them and not more than two hundred yards away.  He raised his gun and Wemple, with quick perception noting that his aim was toward their horse’s neck, gave the bridle a jerk that brought the animal to its hind feet as the bullet whistled barely in front of them.  It would have been quickly followed by another, but the Indian’s pony stumbled, went down on its knees, and horse and rider rolled over together.