lash upon each side, and the two broke. Yellow Elk had had
enough of the fight, and now ran for it in sudden fear. He did not take
to the river shore, but skirted the pond and began to ascend a slight
hill, beyond which was another fork of the ravine which has figured so
largely in our story.

"Let him go! he may kill you!" called out Nellie, when she saw Pawnee
Brown start in pursuit. But the scout paid no attention to her. His
blood was up and he was determined to either exterminate Yellow Elk or
bring him to terms.

[Illustration: "In a second more the two men were in a hand-to-hand
encounter"]

The top of the hill was reached. Yellow Elk paused, not knowing exactly
how to proceed. Looking back, he saw Pawnee Brown preparing to fire upon
him. A pause, and he attempted to leap down to a ledge below him. His
foot caught in the roots of a bush and over he went into a deep hollow
headlong. There was a sickening thud, a grunt, and all became quiet.

Yellow Elk had paid the death penalty at last.

When Pawnee Brown managed to climb down to the Indian's side, to make
certain the wily redskin was not shamming, he found Yellow Elk stone
dead, his neck having been completely broken by his fall. He lay on his
back, his right hand still clutching his bloody hunting knife.

"Gone now," murmured the great scout. His face softened for an instant.
"Hang it all, why must even a redskin be so all-fired bad? If he had
wanted to, Yellow Elk might have made a man of himself. I can't stop to
bury him, and yet----Hullo, what are those papers sticking out of his
pocket?"

The boomer had caught sight of a large packet which had been concealed
in Yellow Elk's bosom. He took up the packet and looked it over. It
consisted of half a dozen legal-looking documents and twice that number
of letters, some addressed to Mortimer Arbuckle and some addressed to
Louis Vorlange.

He read over the letters and documents with interest. Those of Dick's
father related to the mine in Colorado and were evidently those stolen
by Louis Vorlange upon the night of the opening of this tale. The
letters belonging to the government spy were epistles addressed to
Vorlange from a former friend and partner in various shady transactions.
Of these we will hear more later.

"Yellow Elk must have robbed Vorlange of these," mused the great scout,
as he rammed the packet in his pocket. In this he was right. Vorlange
had dropped the packet by accident and the Indian ha