en face each other threateningly. Then there had been
the crack of the unexpected, unseen rifle; the dust struck up between
them; the second shot. And the smoking rifle-barrel was not three feet
from where Terry stood, Blenham's convulsed face laid against the
stock, Blenham's one evil eye lining the sights.

Almost on the instant she guessed something of the truth. Blenham in
this light was not sure of hitting; he would be a fool to shoot and
miss. Unless--and it was then that she screamed out her warning, then
before he had so much as put out his hand toward her.

Unless Blenham, with all of the guile of him uppermost, knew that that
shot fired between the two would send them flying at each other's
throats, ending all parley and bringing about unthinkable tragedy.
Blenham had his own reasons for what he did; certainly it would fit in
with Blenham's plans to see the hand of a Packard set against a Packard.

But she had not thought to have him seize her. Now his great,
calloused, soiled, hairy hands shut down upon her, gripping her
shoulders, jerking her from her place into the crevice from which his
face had emerged. She fought, seeking to get the revolver in her
blouse.

Blenham must have known that she kept it there. He snatched it and
threw it behind him and cursed her as he dragged her with him. As
Barbee came on and Steve came just behind him, the figures of Blenham
and Terry were both gone as though the mountain-side had split for them
and closed after them.

"They've got in a hole," called out Barbee. "Them mountains is full of
caves. They can't get away far."

As they went up the steep slope Barbee was still in the lead. He
mounted to the shelf of rock on which Terry had been standing. He
stepped into the crevice through which Blenham had dragged Terry.

"There's a split in the rocks here," called Barbee. "He went this way."

"Watch out for him!" warned Steve, now on the ledge close to the boy.
"Let me go ahead!"

Barbee laughed.

"Long ago I told him I'd get him!"

But Blenham was waiting in a little rock-rimmed hollow. He shot from
the hip, using a heavy revolver. Barbee stood a moment looking
foolishly at the sky as he slowly leaned back against the rock. Then
he lurched and fell, twisting, spinning so that he lay half in the
fissure, his rifle clattering to the ledge outside, his body falling so
that his head and shoulders were across the rifle.

Steve stepped over Barbee's tw