and
ankles and left his limbs so numb that he had to climb with painful
slowness.

Cochise, following at his heels, cursed and jabbed his knife into
Lennon's leg. The cruel goading stung the benumbed muscles to quicker
action. Lennon sprinted up the ladder, clear of his torturer. A glance
down the rungs showed him three Apaches below Cochise, and Carmena at
the foot, waiting with the remainder of the band. The ladder would not
safely bear more than five climbers at a time.

Spurred even more by the plan that he had in mind than by the threat of
the knife, Lennon sought to increase his lead over Cochise. But the
Indian's wrists were not strained, and his flexible moccasins gave a
better hold on the ladder rungs than Lennon's stiff boot soles. With the
knife between his teeth, the young Apache swung up in swift pursuit.

Instead of gaining, Lennon lost his lead. Another downward glance, as he
grasped the last rung below the sill of the cliff house doorway, showed
him that Cochise was again at his heels. He must change the tactics of
his plan. He uttered a startled cry and pretended to slip down a rung.

Cochise let go the ladder with one hand to jab his knife at Lennon's
leg. Lennon jerked up the leg and kicked down with all his strength. The
heel of his boot struck squarely in the upturned face of the Apache. The
downward and outward force of the blow jerked loose Cochise's one-handed
grip on the ladder. But even as he toppled backward, he crooked a leg
with catlike quickness over one of the rungs.

Lennon saw only that his enemy was falling. His hand had already groped
over the edge of the sill. Without another downward glance, he flung
himself up and into the doorway. The wild scramble and plunge all but
drove him headlong over the sack of corn and against the menacing muzzle
of Pete's rifle.

That double traitor stood crouched at the inner side of the thick-walled
entrance, torn between fear of Cochise and terror of Slade. Lennon had
counted upon this dread and uncertainty of the young Navaho. He flung
out his hands to him in urgent gestures.

"Quick--quick!" he cried. "Cut loose the ladder! Cochise will kill you!
He's coming! Cut the ladder!"

The Indian shrank back to peer at the inner openings of the cliff
house.

"Carmena--him no lie," he muttered. "Cochise kill 'um Slade."

"But you first!" urged Lennon. "He will----"

The band of an Apache headress shot up above the edge of the door sill.
Lennon sp