CHAPTER LI. 



THE RHINOCEROS HUNTERS. 



THE blood of the Texan was roused, and, heedless of the fearful risk he ran, 

 he wheeled his mustang and sped toward the native village on a dead run. 

 The distance was short, and the yell which he sent out as he thundered 

 down the slope was the same that had rung through the mountain gorges of Arizona 

 when charging upon the dusky marauders of the border. 



The Korahs had not yet recovered from the panic caused by the rescue of the 

 lad, and the sight of the white man, swinging his Winchester over his head, must 

 have made them think the whole party had returned to attack them. They scat- 

 tered as if from before a smoking bombshell. 



Jack headed for the hut from which Dick Brownell had dashed a few minutes 

 before. He supposed several of his captors were still there, but they had all hurried 

 forth in pursuit, and were still out of doors. 



A native woman and two children were within, and when the white man, leaping 

 from his saddle, bounded through the small door, they were transfixed with terror. 



Jack saw the canvas where it had been spread in one corner, probably to serve 

 as a bed for some of the inmates. In a twinkling, he had snatched it up, ran out, 

 and was in the saddle again. 



The intelligent mustang needed no guidance. Hardly was his master on his 

 back, when he whirled about and went up the slope like a whirlwind. 



There really was no peril involved in the act, for not a spear or arrow was sent 

 after the Texan, who swung the fluttering canvas aloft, and uttered a shout to which 

 his waiting friends replied with a delight no less than his own. 



The exploit was begun and ended so quickly, that it was over before the bewil- 

 dered natives could interfere. But for the stirring events immediately preceding, 

 the charge of the Texan would have led him to as certain death as if he had 

 plunged over a precipice a thousand feet high. 



Dick Brownell expected a rasping like the scraping of a lion's tongue over the 

 naked hand, for the part he had played in the. business, but not one of his compan- 

 ions uttered a word of reproof. The feeling of impatience on the part of Jack 

 Harvey and Mr. Godkin had vanished long before, and they were too grateful for 

 the outcome to utter any words except those of gratulation. 



Then, too, Dick could not be made to regret more keenly his remissness than he 

 now lamented it, and the most that was done in the way of rebuke was a smile and 

 shake of the director's head, when the lad, relating his story at the request of his 

 friends, told how he had persisted in hunting for the missing canvas until by mere 

 accident he came upon it. 



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