s shaft stole farther down the
hillside till it touched the yellowing foliage of the cottonwoods.

Up the canon came the sudden pop--pop--pop of exploding rifles. Drifted
up yells and whoops. The Indians hidden in the rock slide began to
appear, dodging swiftly down toward the trees. Jack let out the
"Hi-yi-yi" of the line-rider and stepped out from the boulders to get a
better shot. The naked Apaches, leaping like jack-rabbits, scurried for
cover. Their retreat was cut off from the right, and they raced up the
gorge to escape the galloping cowboys who swung round the bend. One of
the red men, struck just as he was sliding from a flat rock, whirled,
plunged down headfirst like a diver, and disappeared in the brush.

Jack waited to see no more. He turned and walked back into the cave
where his incomparable sweetheart was standing with her little fingers
clasped tightly together.

"It's all over. The 'Paches are on the run," he told her.

She drew a deep, long breath and trembled into his arms.

There Clint Wadley found her five minutes later. The cattleman brushed
the young fellow aside and surrounded his little girl with rough
tenderness. Jack waited to see no more, but joined Dinsmore outside.

After a long time Wadley, his arm still around Ramona, joined them on
the ledge.

"Boys, I'm no hand at talkin'," he said huskily. "I owe both of you a
damned sight more than I can ever pay. I'll talk with you later, Jack.
What about you, Dinsmore? You're in one hell of a fix. I'll get you out
of it or go broke."

"What fix am I in?" demanded the outlaw boldly. "They ain't got a thing
on me--not a thing. Suspicions aren't proof."

The Ranger said nothing. He knew that the evidence he could give would
hang Dinsmore before any Panhandle jury, and now his heart was wholly on
the side of the ruffian who had saved the life of his sweetheart. None
the less, it was his duty to take the man in charge and he meant to do
it.

"Hope you can make yore side of the case stick, Dinsmore. I sure hope
so. Anyway, from now on I'm with you at every turn of the road," the
cattleman promised.

"Much obliged," answered the outlaw with a lift of his lip that might
have been either a smile or a sneer.

"You've been trailin' with a bad outfit. You're a sure-enough wolf,
I've heard tell. But you're a man all the way, by gad."

"Did you figure I was yellow like Steve, Clint? Mebbe I'm a bad _hombre_
all right. But you've known me twenty ye