s time they were more fortunate. The ravine sloped on up to the
summit of the cliff, debouching upon a level plain. They reached this
without passing any point that could bring them under the eyes of the
Indians.

They could still hear the shouts of triumph and wild revelry; but as
they receded from the crest of the cliff these grew fainter and fainter,
until they found themselves fleeing over an open table-land, bounded
above by the sky, all round them silent as death--silent as the heart of
a desert.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

INTO THE DESERT.

The cliff, up which the young prairie merchant and his guide, after
their series of hairbreadth escapes, have succeeded in climbing, is the
scarped edge of a spur of the famous Llano Estacado, or "Staked Plain,"
and it is into this sterile tract they are now fleeing.

Neither have any definite knowledge of the country before them, or the
direction they ought to take. Their only thought is to put space
between themselves and the scene of their disaster--enough to secure
them against being seen by the eye of any Indian coming after.

A glance is sufficient to satisfy them that only by distance can they
obtain concealment. Far as the eye can reach the surface appears a
perfect level, without shrub or tree. There is not cover enough to give
hiding-place to a hare. Although now in full run, and with no
appearance of being pursued, they are far from being confident of
escaping. They are under an apprehension that some of the savages have
ascended to the upper plain, and are still on it, searching for them.
If so, these may be encountered at any moment, returning disappointed
from the pursuit.

The fugitives draw some consolation from the knowledge that the pursuers
could not have got their horses up the cliff; and, if there is to be
another chapter to the chase, it will be on foot--a contest of
pedestrian speed. In a trial of this kind Walt Wilder, at least, has
nothing to fear. The Colossus, with his long strides, would be almost a
match for the giant with the seven-leagued boots.

Their only uneasiness is that the savages may have gone out upon the
track they are themselves taking, and, appearing in their front, may
head them off, and so intercept their retreat. As there is yet no
savage in sight--no sign either of man or animal--their confidence
increases; and, after making a mile or so across the plain, they no
longer look ahead, but backward.

At short interv