www.freeclassicebooks.com

The first streaks of daylight were piercing the heavens, the Pesitistas were rallying

for a decisive charge, the hopes of the little band of besieged were at low ebb

when from the west there sounded the pounding of many hoofs.

"Villa," moaned Westcott Clark, hopelessly. "We're done for now, sure enough. He

must be comin' back from his raid on the border."

In the faint light of dawn they saw a column of horsemen deploy suddenly into a

long, thin line which galloped forward over the flat earth, coming toward them

like a huge, relentless engine of destruction.

The Pesitistas were watching too. They had ceased firing and sat in their saddles

forgetful of their contemplated charge.

The occupants of the ranchhouse were gathered at the small windows.

What's them?" cried Mason--"them things floating over 'em."

They're guidons!" exclaimed Price Clark "--the guidons of the United States

cavalry regiment. See 'em! See 'em? God! but don't they look good?"

There was a wild whoop from the lungs of the advancing cavalrymen. Pesita's

troops answered it with a scattering volley, and a moment later the Americans

were among them in that famous revolver charge which is now history.

Daylight had come revealing to the watchers in the ranchhouse the figures of the

combatants. In the thick of the fight loomed the giant figure of a man in

nondescript garb which more closely resembled the apparel of the Pesitistas than

it did the uniforms of the American soldiery, yet it was with them he fought.

Barbara's eyes were the first to detect him.

There's Mr. Byrne," she cried. "It must have been he who brought the troops."

Why, he hasn't had time to reach the border yet," remonstrated one of the Clark

boys, "much less get back here with help."

There he is though," said Mr. Harding. "It's certainly strange. I can't understand

what American troops are doing across the border--especially under the present

administration."

The Pesitistas held their ground for but a moment then they wheeled and fled;

but not before Pesita himself had forced his pony close to that of Billy Byrne.

Traitor!" screamed the bandit. "You shall die for this," and fired point-blank at

the American.

302

The Mucker