n fresh
outburst of shots cut short his frightful suspense. The Apaches had
neither abandoned their attack nor had they yet captured the cliff
house.

Elation, mingled with renewed fear for the girls, sent Lennon scrambling
up beside the leaders. He came to where they were peering over the crest
of the dam. Slade growled a command for the fool tenderfoot to get down
out of sight. But after Lennon's first look across the top of the
embankment main force would have been required to drag him back.

He had already guessed that Pete had stolen away down into the lower
canon, unknown to the Apaches. The only other explanation was that the
Navaho had been posted as guard at the cross cliff. This was improbable,
as the only need for watchers was to help in-comers up the otherwise
impassable barrier. That Pete had not been missed was evident from the
failure of the Apaches to oppose the rush of the rescuers up the valley.

The mystery of how Cochise hoped to take the cliff house became clear to
Lennon at the first glance. The ancient stronghold was less than half a
mile away from the reservoir. In the crystal-clear air Lennon made out a
crooked line of poles and what appeared to be three or four sacks of
corn lying upon the cliff foot. Above these objects eight or nine
Apaches were raising a long ladder of spliced poles against the face of
the rock wall. The fallen poles were the shattered remains of a first
ladder that had collapsed.

The ladder raisers were protected in their work by the incessant
shooting of the other members of the band. From a crescent of positions
well out in the valley the riflemen poured a cross-fire of bullets into
all the openings of the cliff house. The Indian at the nearest end of
the crescent lay not more than a hundred yards beyond the far side of
the reservoir.

Even as Lennon grasped the plan of attack, the heavy-butted ladder came
to an upright position directly under the main doorway of the cliff
house. On the instant a pair of nimble Apaches scrambled to the top,
dragging with them a shorter ladder. They hoisted it above them and
spliced its foot to the head of the main one.

No less swiftly, another ladder was passed up and lashed to the top of
the second. The new top reached within two yards of the brink of the
forty-foot cliff. A third Apache started to carry up a short ladder.
After he passed the middle of the ascent, his weight, added to that of
the men above, made the much-spliced