up as high as this at the other end. Wait till
daylight before riskin' a loose slope. I'll be ridin' the job early.
That's all."

Ladd's cool, easy speech was scarcely significant of the perilous
undertaking. Lash moved very slowly away, leading his horse. The soft
pads of hoofs ceased to sound about the time the gray shape merged into
the black shadows. Then Ladd touched Dick's arm, and turned back up
the trail.

But Dick tarried a moment. He wanted a fuller sense of that
ebony-bottomed abyss, with its pale encircling walls reaching up to the
dusky blue sky and the brilliant stars. There was absolutely no sound.

He retraced his steps down, soon coming up with Ladd; and together they
picked a way back through the winding recesses of cliff. The campfire
was smoldering. Ladd replenished it and lay down to get a few hours'
sleep, while Gale kept watch. The after part of the night wore on till
the paling of stars, the thickening of gloom indicated the dark hour
before dawn. The spot was secluded from wind, but the air grew cold as
ice. Gale spent the time stripping wood from a dead mesquite, in
pacing to and fro, in listening. Blanco Sol stamped occasionally,
which sound was all that broke the stilliness. Ladd awoke before the
faintest gray appeared. The rangers ate and drank. When the black did
lighten to gray they saddled the horses and led them out to the pass
and down to the point where they had parted with Lash. Here they
awaited daylight.

To Gale it seemed long in coming. Such a delay always aggravated the
slow fire within him. He had nothing of Ladd's patience. He wanted
action. The gray shadow below thinned out, and the patch of mesquite
made a blot upon the pale valley. The day dawned.

Still Ladd waited. He grew more silent, grimmer as the time of action
approached. Gale wondered what the plan of attack would be. Yet he
did not ask. He waited ready for orders.

The valley grew clear of gray shadow except under leaning walls on the
eastern side. Then a straight column of smoke rose from among the
mesquites. Manifestly this was what Ladd had been awaiting. He took
the long .405 from its sheath and tried the lever. Then he lifted a
cartridge belt from the pommel of his saddle. Every ring held a shell
and these shells were four inches long. He buckled the belt round him.

"Come on, Dick."

Ladd led the way down the slope until he reached a position that
commanded the rising of