" ordered Lynch, swinging out of his saddle.

As she slid to the ground he handed her his bridle-reins.

"Take the horses a ways back an' hold 'em," he told her curtly. "An'
remember this: Not a peep out of yuh, or it'll be yore last. Nobody yet's
double-crossed me an' got away with it, an' nobody ain't goin' to--not
even a woman. That canyon's pretty deep, an' there's sharp stones a-plenty
at the bottom."

White-faced and tight-lipped, she turned away from him without a word and
led the two horses back to the point he indicated. The ledge, which sloped
sharply upward, was cluttered with loose stones, and she moved slowly,
avoiding these with instinctive caution and trying not to glance toward
the precipice. A dozen feet away she paused, holding the horses tightly by
their bridles and pressing herself against the lathered neck of Freckles,
who she knew was steady. Then she glanced back and caught her breath with
a swift, sudden intake.

Kneeling close to the opening, but a little to one side, Lynch was
whirling the cylinder of his Colt. Watching him with fascinated horror,
Mary saw him break the weapon, closely inspect the shells, close it again,
and test the trigger. Then, revolver gripped in right hand, he settled
himself into a slightly easier position, eyes fixed on the opening and
head thrust a little forward in an attitude of listening.

Only too well she guessed his purpose. He was waiting in ambush to "get"
that solitary horseman they had seen riding from the north. Whether or not
he had come here for the sole purpose of luring the other to his death,
Mary had no notion. But she could see clearly that once this stranger was
out of the way, Lynch would at least have a chance to penetrate into the
mountains before the others from the south arrived to halt him.

Slowly, interminably the minutes ticked away as the girl stood motionless,
striving desperately to think of something she might do to prevent the
catastrophe. If only she had some way of knowing when the stranger was
near she might cry out a warning, even at the risk of Lynch's violence.
But thrust here in the background as she was, the unknown was likely to
come within range of Lynch's gun before she even knew of his approach.

Suddenly, out of the dead silence, the clatter of a pebble struck on the
girl's raw nerves and made her wince. She saw the muscles of Lynch's back
stiffen and the barrel of his Colt flash up to cover the narrow entrance
to the