Pen sobbed in her excitement. If Uncle Denny could see his
boy!

She turned and ran up the trail like a little rabbit. It seemed to her
that she never would reach the top. The camp sounds were faint and far
before she reached the upper mesa and saw dimly a figure on a horse. It
was an Indian who covered her with a gun as she panted up to him.

"Suma-theek and the Big Boss say for you to call in all the other
Indians and come help them at the little power house. The whites are
trying to lynch the hombres."

The Indian peered down into her face and grunted as he recognized her.
Then he suddenly stood in his stirrups and raised the fearful cry that
had emptied the moving picture hall.

"Ke-theek! Ke-theek! Ke-theek! (To me! To me! To me!)"

Pen stood by the pony's head, trembling yet exultant. This, then, she
thought was the life men knew. No wonder Jim loved his job!

Up on the mesa top, the night wind rushed against the encircling stars.
The Indian chuckled.

"Mexicans, they no bother whites tonight. They know Apache call, it heap
devil."

The sound of hoofs began to beat in about the waiting two. "You go,"
said the Indian. "Back along upper trail, it safe."

Pen started on a run toward the upper camp.

The surging crowd round Jim and the Indians heard the wild cry from the
mesa top and the shouts and threats were stilled as if by magic. There
was a moment of restless silence. That cry was a primordial thing, as
well understood by every man in the mob as if he had heard it always. It
was the cry of the hunted and the hunter. It was the night cry of
forests. It was war with naked hands, death under lonely skies.

Jim called: "Some one is bound to get killed if you boys don't clear
out. I'm not armed but a number of you are and the Indians are. If there
are any of my Makon boys here, I want them to come over here and help
me."

"Coming, Boss!" called a voice. "Only a few of the best of us here."

"You'll stay where you are," roared a big Irishman.

"Rush 'em, boys! Rush 'em! They don't dare to shoot!"

Old Suma-theek absent-mindedly sighted his gun in the direction of the
last remark.

"Get a ladder! Get on top of the station. Altogether, boys!"

Fighting through the mob, half a dozen men suddenly ranged themselves
with the Indians.

"Come into us!" one of them shrieked. "I ain't had a fight since I
killed six Irishmen on the Makon and ate 'em for breakfast."

There was a swaying, a sudden closing