th the ladder. We'll make it in time
for the call of Cochise."

Before Lennon could inquire the meaning of this, she sprang upon the
pony and loped along the cliff foot toward the cliff ruins. As Lennon
jogged after her he saw a rope ladder slide down the under cliff,
followed by a rope reeved through a crane that thrust out from another
opening in the facade of the cliff building.

Carmena's saddle and bags, saddle blanket and rifle, and the
canteen--all were fast to the hoisting rope when Lennon came staggering
and panting up beside the girl. She pointed toward the head of the
valley and caught the rifle from him to tie it on the load.

"A miss is as good as a mile," she said. "We'll just have time to get
up. Cochise and Pete must have ridden over around and come down Hell
Canon. Ours was Devil's Chute."

Lennon frowned at the pair of riders who were racing swiftly down aslant
from the head of the valley.

"We'll be ready to pick them off," he said. "There's no cover under
here."

"Too late for that," sighed Carmena. "Dad won't let us.
Besides--Pete----"

"But when the murderers have tried to kill you!--And they'll steal all
his cattle."

The girl winced and looked down.

"No. You see Dad--he is friends with all the--Indians hereabouts. I'll
be safe enough now, soon as Cochise cools off. It's only a question of
you."

"I see!" exclaimed Lennon. "You know the renegades. You would have been
safe at the first. You have risked your own life just to save mine. I'll
never forget that, Carmena."

"If only--if only you'll remember--when you know!" she whispered, and
she turned to start up the rope ladder.

As Lennon stepped forward after her he noticed that the saddle load had
already been hoisted above his reach and was rapidly going higher.

A rope ladder draped upon the face of a smooth rock wall and unfastened
below is at best not easy to climb. Lennon had to crook his right elbow
through the rungs to get any use of his injured arm. But the riders
racing swiftly across the head of the valley would soon be within short
rifle range. Lennon's left hand was only a few rungs below Carmena's
boot heels all the way up the ladder.

At the top the girl pulled herself in over the worn stone sill of a
massive-walled doorway. As Lennon scrambled up and through the deep
entrance after her he glimpsed a thin gray face, with bleary red eyes
and loose lips, leering at him out of the darkness of an inner room.

To the