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Updated: June 8, 2025
"But let's try and find our horses," Bob suggested, after he had finished eating what food the newcomers had taken the pains to prepare for the lost ones. "Yes, I'm anxious myself to find out how Buckskin's weathered the gale," Frank put in.
"My father, he Chief Buckskin, Lillooet tribe." "Whew!" gasped Big Bill. "Old Buckskin's son, eh? Then you're all right, for Buckskin is 'white' all but his skin. You climb up beside me here, and give that poor, busted horse of yours a rest. This outfit is a-goin' to turn back, and we'll all sleep at Pete's place to-night. But how did you get past those sneaking gunners up there?
The man headed back for his horses and unlashed the buckskin's top-pack, dropping it to the ground, then led the two of them back toward the corral, stripped the saddle from the pinto, the side panniers and packsaddle from the buckskin and turned them into the corral.
"Why, he's coming to, Frank!" exclaimed Bob, as, having finished his task, he turned to see his chum bending over the victim of Buckskin's hoofs, and noted that the would-be horse thief was struggling to sit up. "I don't believe he's hurt very bad," Frank declared. "I've felt all over his body, and don't seem to find any signs of broken bones."
Already the horses had stood hard usage the detour with Matthews, the return, and the severely trying swim. Fraser, given the lead, still kept it, dinging hoarse persuasion into "Buckskin's" flattened ears. So far, the troopers had kept silent through fear for the girls' safety fear that the hostages, if aware of pursuit, would wreak instant death.
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