cks to and fro, up and down the broiling
hot canyons.

On the summit it was cool and the grass was still green, for the snow
had held late on the peaks, and the junipers and pinons had given place
to oaks and limber pines which stood up along the steep slopes like
switches. The air was sweet and pure, all the world lay below him; but,
as the heat came on, the abyss of Death Valley was lost in a pall of
black haze. It gathered from nowhere, smoke-like and yet not smoke; a
haze, a murk, a mass of writhing heat like the fumes from a witches'
cauldron. Wunpost had simmered in that cauldron, and he would simmer
again soon; but gladly, if he had Lynch for company. It was
follow-my-leader and, since there were no long wharves to jump off of,
Wunpost had decided upon the Valley of Death. And if, in following after
him to rob him of his mine, Pisen-face Lynch should succumb to the heat,
that might justly be considered a visitation of Providence to punish him
for his misspent life. Or at least so Wunpost reasoned and, remembering
the gun under Lynch's knee, he decided to keep well in the lead.

Wunpost camped that night at the upper water in Wild Rose Canyon,
letting his mules get a last feed of grass; and the next morning at
daylight he was up and away on the long trail that led down to Death
Valley. But first it led north over a broad, sandy plain, where Indian
ponies were grazing in stray bands; and then, after ten miles, it swung
off to the east where it broke through the hills and turned down. After
that it was a jump-off for six thousand feet, from the mountain-top to
down below sea-level; and, before he lost himself in the gap between the
hills, Wunpost paused and looked back across the plain.

This was the door to his trap, for at the edge of the rim the trail
split in twain; the Wet Trail leading past water while the Dry Trail was
shorter, but dry. And as live bait is best he unpacked and waited
patiently until he spied his pursuers in the pass. They were not five
miles away, coming down the narrow draw which marked the turn in the
trail, and after a long look Wunpost put up his glasses and saddled and
packed to go. Yet still he lingered on, looking back through the
shimmering heat that seemed to make the yellow earth blaze; until at
last they were so near that he could see them point ahead and bring
their tired horses to a stop. Then he whipped out his pistol and shot
back at them defiantly, turning off up the Dry Tra