words that passed
from saddle to saddle. The Indians were already within gunshot, but
too sure of their game to lose any time in shooting; nor was Stanley
willing to waste a shot upon them. As he dodged in between a broken
wall of granite and a scrubby clump of cedars, closely followed by
Bucks, their pursuers could have picked either man from his saddle.

Stanley had no longer any fixed purpose of escape. He meant merely to
dismount when he could ride no farther and sell his life as best he
could, while Bucks took such further chance of escape as his
companion's last stand might afford. The hard-driven fighter was even
looking for a well-placed rock to drop behind, when the horse plunging
under him lurched to one side of the cedars and a gulf in the walls
suddenly opened before his surprised rider.

A rotten ledge of burned granite seemed to head a mountain wash
directly in their path. There was a sheer drop of twenty feet to the
crumbling slope of disintegrated stone under the head of the draw
itself, but Stanley, without looking back, never hesitated. Urging his
panting horse, he made a flying leap down into space, and horse and
rider landed knee-deep in the soft, gravelly granite below them.

Bucks's mustang shied on the brink. He spurred him excitedly, and the
trembling beast, nerving himself, leaped far out over the ledge,
following Stanley so closely that he almost struck him with his hoofs
as he went flying over the engineer's head. Bucks rolled headlong as
his horse plunged into the loose debris. He scrambled to his feet and,
spitting the gravel from between his bruised lips, caught the bridle
of his horse as the latter righted himself.

No legs were broken and much was already gained.

"Quick!" cried Stanley. "Ride for your life!" he shouted as Bucks
regained his saddle. The two spurred at the same time and dashed down
the draw at breakneck speed just as the Indians yelling on the brink
of the ledge stopped to pour a volley after the desperate men. Unable
to land an effective shot, the Cheyennes, nothing daunted, and
hesitating only a moment, plunged over the precipice after their
quarry.

But they had lost their great advantage. The dry watercourse proved
unexpectedly good riding for the fleeing railroad men. It was a
downhill run, with their hopes rising every moment. Moreover, the draw
soon turned sharply to the south and put a big shoulder of granite
between the pursuers and the pursued. The horses