don the
pursuit. The rifle wavered a little as he aimed, then grew still. He
fired. Shadd never flinched. But the fiery mustang, perhaps wounded,
certainly terrified, plunged down with piercing, horrid scream. Shadd
fell under him. Shrill yells rent the air. Like a thunderbolt the
sliding horse was upon men and animals below.

A heavy shock, wild snorts, upflinging heads and hoofs, a terrible
tramping, thudding, shrieking melee, then a brown, twisting, tangled
mass shot down the slant over the rim!

Shefford dazedly thought he saw men running. He did see plunging horses.
One slipped, fell, rolled, and went into the chasm.

Then up from the depths came a crash, a long, slipping roar. In another
instant there was a lighter crash and a lighter sliding roar.

Two horses, shaking, paralyzed with fear, were left upon the narrow
level. Beyond them a couple of men were crawling along the stone. Up
on the level stood the two Indians, holding down frightened horses, and
staring at the fatal slope.

And Shefford lay there under the cedar, in the ghastly grip of the
moment, hardly comprehending that his ill-aimed shot had been a
thunderbolt.

He did not think of shooting at the Piutes; they, however, recovering
from their shock, evidently feared the ambush, for they swiftly drew up
the slope and passed out of sight. The frightened horses below whistled
and tramped along the lower level, finally vanishing. There was nothing
left on the bare wall to prove to Shefford that it had been the scene
of swift and tragic death. He leaned from his covert and peered over the
rim. Hundreds of feet below he saw dark growths of pinyons. There was no
sign of a pile of horses and men, and then he realized that he could not
tell the number that had perished. The swift finale had been as stunning
to him as if lightning had struck near him.

Suddenly it flashed over him what state of suspense and torture Fay and
Jane must be in at that very moment. And, leaping up, he ran out of the
cedars to the slope behind and hurried down at risk of limb. The sun had
set by this time. He hoped he could catch up with the party before dark.
He went straight down, and the end of the slope was a smooth, low wall.
The Indian must have descended with the horses at some other point. The
canyon was about fifty yards wide and it headed under the great slope of
Navajo Mountain. These smooth, rounded walls appeared to end at its low
rim.

Shefford slid down upon a