blew sand into the glaring eyes of the rattler. The jaws gaped
angrily. He blew all the remaining sand in between the high-curved
fangs. The snake struck viciously and sank down, inert. A film closed
over the sand-filled eyes.

By pulling himself forward, Lennon gained a little relaxing of the
thongs that held his arms outstretched. He drew up his knees and flung
his body up and forward. From a height of several inches his breast came
down squarely upon the head of the snake, with all the weight of his
body in the blow.

When Slade rushed cursing from the fire, Lennon lay in what appeared to
be a swoon, with the body of the rattlesnake writhing about his head. At
the angry bellow of the trader the Indians came running to slash
Lennon's bonds and jerk him away from the snake.

Slade ripped out an astounded oath.

"He's beaten the game!" he cried.

The head of the reptile had been crushed.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE ATTACK

The trader possibly may have been overcome with admiration for his
victim's courage. More probably he was moved by the need to keep him
alive for further torture. He signed one of the Navahos to use his
canteen. Lennon had feigned unconsciousness in the hope of this result.

He permitted a good quart of water to trickle down his parched throat
before he showed signs of reviving. Even after he thought best to feign
stupor no longer he made a show of great weakness. When jerked to his
feet by the Indians, he tottered and crumpled down again. Slade swore,
but ordered food and coffee brought.

Lennon's tongue was still too swollen for him to eat much of the greasy
solids. The strong coffee, however, both stimulated him and completed
the quenching of his thirst. The old Navaho held the spout of the big
tin coffee pot to his lips and poured until the last drop of muddy black
fluid drained from the grounds.

The ponies were saddled, and Lennon was lifted upon his mount none too
gently. He swayed in the saddle and clutched the horn. Slade made a sign
for the prisoner's hands to be left unbound. During the ride up the
canon Lennon continued to feign weakness, lurching and swaying in the
saddle.

Slade had taken the pinto pony of the youngest Navaho, who rode double
with one of the other men. The five miles to the cliff break in the
canon bed, down which they had been lowered in the basket, was covered
at a lope.

As the party came galloping to the under ledges Slade bellowed a
deep-chested h