haunted bottom,
over rocks, through puddles, into pigmy forests of cherry and plum. But
now, careless of lost time, Dallas ran with backward looks and frequent
haltings, giving strict heed to the whereabouts of those behind.

They had travelled a good distance when she judged that the savages were
nearing the burial-place, that the time for her ruse was come. Letting
the outcast go on, she paused for breath; then lifted her voice--and
sent back through the night, a long, inviting call.

Down the wind came instant answer; a great howl of glee. And as if her
presence ahead was unexpected, as if it tempted to a better speed, a
jargon of cries swelled hideously, and drew on.

"She's safe!" shouted Dallas, exultantly; "Charley, she's safe!"

Another yowl from a score of throats.

And now began a race.

From the start it was unequal, and the gain on the side of the pursuers.
For the biting poison that had made the Indians bold to the point of
open defiance was now stirring them into fleeter going. They kept up a
constant jabbering. They broke into short, puffy whoops. And gradually,
but surely, the rods decreased between quarry and pack.

The sweat dreening from their faces, The Squaw and Dallas strained
forward. But now of the two, one could scarcely keep a walk. Her
strength was ebbing to the final drop.

"Charley--Charley--I'm tired!"

The outcast stumbled back to help her.

A little while, and she whispered again. "Can't go--stop--can't----"

Every breath was sawing at her sore lungs. She tottered, pitched
forward, and went down.

It was then that Charley pointed to the front, and as if to a
vantage-place. Dallas looked, and saw, at the end of sheer walls, an
oblong opening of greyish light. She hailed it dumbly. There was where
the coulee narrowed until a man, standing in its bed with arms
outstretched, could place the tips of his fingers against either rocky
wall. There a last stand might be made. The Throat!

One helping the other, they dragged themselves on and into the opening.

The time had narrowed. Close behind, crashing through a thicket, were
the warriors, announcing themselves with shrill whoops.

Dallas waited, propped against a stone. The words of the old Texas song
began to run in her mind:

"_We saw the Indians coming,
We heard them give a yell,
My feelings at that moment
No mortal tongue could tell._"

She was spent. She had no hope of being spared from death. Yet