lamed if ever I thought I'd be a hoss thief, but when a
feller associates with Bill Lacy there's no knowin' what he will come
to. Howsumever, the foreman an' I are good friends, an' I don't reckon
he'd ever let me be hung fer this job. We better try the other side o'
the road, Jim."

They were in the flicker of light for scarcely an instant, merely two
darting shadows, vanishing once more swiftly and silently into the
gloom. Nor were they much longer in releasing the two cow-ponies.
Westcott tied his bundle to the cantle of the saddle and then, bridle
reins in hand, the docile animals following their new masters without
resistance, the men led them over the smooth turf well back from the
range of light. They were a quarter of a mile from the Red Dog before
Brennan, slightly in advance, ventured to enter the road.

"It's safe enough now, Jim, an' we don't wanter lose no time. Got the
grub, haven't yer?"

"Tied it on the saddle; which way do we go?"

"Straight south at the bridge; that will bring us to the old trail in
about five miles, an' after that the devil himself couldn't find us.
Ever crossed Shoshone?"

"No."

"Well, it's a little bit o' hell after sunup, an' we'll have a twenty
mile ride before we strike water. We'll start slow."

They swung into saddle, the road before them a mere black ribbon
revealed only by the gleam of a few far-off stars peering through rifts
in the clouds. Brennan rode slightly in advance, trusting his mount
largely to pick out the way, yet leaning forward eagerly scanning every
shadow and listening for the slightest warning sound. They were upon
the grade leading to the bridge when his vigilance was rewarded. There
was some movement to the left, where the hotel trail led down the bank,
and instantly both men drew up their ponies and remained intent and
rigid. Brennan's hand rested on the butt of his revolver, but for the
moment neither could determine what was moving in the intense blackness
of the hillside. Then something spectral advanced into the starlight
of the road and confronted them.

"Is this you, Mr. Cassady?" asked a woman's voice softly.

CHAPTER XXIV: THE CAVE IN THE CLIFF

Dazed, helpless, yet continuing to struggle futilely, Stella realised
little except giving a glance at the hated faces of her captors. She
heard Cateras's voice ordering the men forward, vibrant with Spanish
oaths, and trembling yet with the fury which possessed him--but all