e cliff house. He thrust in the
muzzle of his rifle and then his head. Though shadowed, the inner room
was light enough for him to see that it was empty. He went back to
Carmena.

"No one there," he said. "Just your fancy, dear. You're
nervous--overwrought. But no wonder. The sooner we're down and away from
here, the better."

"Wait. First take this," replied Carmena. She held up a thick-padded
leather belt.

"Slade's," she explained. "I guessed he might be carrying it. It's his
money-belt, stuffed with big bills. He lied about the partnership
bank-account. Take it, Jack--for Elsie and me. It's ours by rights. He
cheated us of our heritage. We have to leave Dad's ranch."

The belt was already fast about Lennon's waist. Elsie appeared, dragging
the saddlebags and the girth. Lennon brought the wide cinch to wrap
around Carmena's waist. The double fold lashed fast with the straps made
a broad stiff corsage support for her wrenched back.

In quick succession, Lennon then lowered, over the sacks of corn in the
hoist opening, first Elsie, then the outfit, and lastly Carmena. She
asked to see her father, but Lennon dissuaded her. He thought best that
her last impression of Slade's victim should be the broken man's
redeeming flare of vengeful love and fatherhood.

The moment the slackening hoist rope told him that Elsie had steadied
her foster-sister down upon the cliff foot, Lennon ran to descend the
rope ladder. Time was passing, and there was still much to be done. He
must catch and saddle three good horses. Slade's punchers might not come
for four or five hours. But the earlier the start of the fugitives, the
better would be their chance of escape if the Navahos should seek to
track them down.

Elsie had drawn Carmena away from the heap of saddles and bags to a seat
on a ledge. As Lennon sprang toward them from the foot of the shaking
ladder Carmena called out and pointed over his head. One rope of the
ladder had sagged as if broken. A moment later the ladder came
slithering down the cliff face.

"Cut--That face in the window--Cochise! He's not dead!" cried Carmena.
"Oh, Jack, if you hadn't come down fast! He tried to make you fall!"

Lennon was already running out to aim his rifle at the doorway from
which the ladder had fallen. There was no sign of the ladder-cutter. Out
of the side of his eye Lennon saw the crane swing back into the other
opening and the hoist rope jerk upward. He swung his rifle to that side.