. By a tremendous effort Dick
then succeeded in flinging him over his shoulder, although the agile
redskin dropped upon his feet, and instantly flew at his antagonist like
a tiger.

For several minutes the struggle raged with the greatest fury; but the
Apache, in a contest of this kind, was overmatched. The hunter was much
the superior, and he began crowding his foe toward the margin of the
rock. Divining his purpose, he resisted with the fury of desperation;
but it was useless, and the two moved along toward the brink like the
slow, resistless tread of fate. Neither of them spoke a word, nor was a
muscle relaxed. The scout knew that the instant the struggle was
detected by those below, there would be a rush up the incline such as
Ned Chadmund with his loaded and cocked revolver could not withstand.
The fighting, therefore, was of the hurricane order from the beginning
to the close.

There was one terrific burst of strength, and then, gathering the
writhing savage in his arms, Dick Morris ran to the very edge of the
plateau and hurled him over.

Down, down from dizzy heights he spun, until he struck the ground far
below, a shapeless, insensible mass, falling almost at the feet of the
horror-bound Apaches, who thus saw the dreadful death of one of their
most intrepid and powerful warriors.

Without waiting to see the last of the redskin, the scout turned and
hurried down to the relief of his young charge, and to be prepared for
the rush which he was confident would be made the next minute. But it
was not. The redskins had learned, from dear experience, the mettle of
this formidable white man, and they had no wish to encounter it again.

The time wore away until the sun was at the meridian, and the heat
became almost intolerable. Even the toughened old scout was compelled to
shelter himself as best he could from its intolerable rays, by seeking
the scant shadow of jutting points of the rock. Ned Chadmund suffered
much, and the roiled and warm water in the old canteen was quaffed
again, even though they were compelled to tip it more and more, until,
toward the close of the day, Dick held it mouth downward, and showed
that not a drop was left.

"No use of keeping it when we are thirsty," was the philosophic remark
of the hunter. "It's made to drink, and we needn't stop so long as any
is left; and bein' there ain't any left, I guess we'll stop. I've a
mouthful or two of meat left, and we may as well surround that."