g rattlesnake lay
flat on the sand, less than eight inches before his face. It had lashed
out to the full length of the thong. Had the thong broken, or even had
its loop about the reptile's neck slipped, the poison-dripping fangs
must have lashed Lennon's face.

Intense as were the heat and dryness of the canon bed, Lennon suddenly
felt his skin bathed in clammy sweat. For the first time in his life he
knew terror. He glared into the cold, malignant eyes of the snake and
saw death, certain and horrible. Panic seized him. He writhed and dug
his fingers and boot toes into the sand in a frantic attempt to work
himself back away from the hideous forward-straining reptile.

The desperate struggle was utterly futile. The lines ahead had been
stretched taut and knotted fast to their stakes. With his arms
outstretched he could get very little purchase for thrusting himself
back against the elastic pull of the rawhide ropes.

But he was no coward. Realization of his helplessness brought him the
resignation of despair. With resignation came a stilling of his wild
panic. Frantic terror gave way to reasoning thought.

Had his torturer been Cochise, there might have been no room for hope.
But Slade was a white man. He might prefer gold to the lust of torture.
The death of his victim would mean the loss of the ransom money.
Lennon's tense nerves and rigid muscles relaxed. He allowed his
upward--and backward-strained head to sink down until one cheek rested
upon the hot sand. The change of position brought the top of his head
very close to the snake. But he trusted to Slade's avarice to see that
he escaped the fangs.

Slade and the Indians had been gloating upon the struggles and terror of
their victim. At Lennon's quieting down the trader burst into a derisive
laugh.

"Sort of wilted a'ready, huh?" he jeered. "Well, you're wise to take a
rest while you still got time. Rawhide shrinks a whole lot when it gits
to drying. Only question is how much slower the rattler's whang strap'll
shorten up than your lines."

For the first time a clear perception of the real devilishness of the
torture flashed into Lennon's abnormally active mind. He was to lie
outstretched through the long hours, without food or water, while the
shrinking rawhide dragged him with frightful slowness closer and closer
to those fangs of death.

The thong of the snake also would be contracting. But it was much the
shorter, and therefore would shrink less. The