f a
thousand lusty throats were opened, and scared rigid he looked behind
him and saw the canyon below alive with warriors.

They were riding helter-skelter to reach a range where they could pick
the fugitives off the crest of the canyon side. Within a minute,
almost, their rifles were cracking. Scott had already reached a point
of concealment, and above the heads of Bucks and Stanley fired his
rifle in answer. An Indian brave, riding furiously to a rock that
would have commanded Stanley and Bucks as they urged their horses on,
started in his saddle as Scott fired and clutched his side instantly
with his rifle hand. His pony bolted as the half-hitch of the rawhide
thong on its lower jaw was loosened and the rider, toppling, fell
heavily backward to the ground. The riderless horse dashed on. The
yelling Indians had had their blunt warning and now scurried for
cover. The interval, short as it was, gave Bucks and Stanley a
chance.

Spurring relentlessly and crouching low on their horses' necks, they
made a dash across the exposed wall of rock near the top, that lay
between them and safety. A renewed yell echoed the rage and chagrin of
their pursuers, and a quick fire of scattering shots followed their
rapid flight, but the Indians were confused, and Bucks, followed by
his soldier champion, flung himself from his saddle in the clump of
cedars behind which Scott, safely hidden, was reloading his rifle.
Choosing his opportunity carefully, Stanley fired at once at an
exposed brave and succeeded in disabling him. Bucks was forbidden to
shoot and told to hold his rifle, if it were needed, in readiness for
his companions. With the bullets cutting the twigs above their heads,
Stanley and Scott held a council of war. Scott insisted on remaining
behind to check their pursuers where they were, while the two with him
rode on to safety.

"I can hold this bunch, colonel," declared Scott briefly. "There may
not be a second chance as good. Get on with the boy before another
party cuts you off. They can cross below us and save two or three
miles. Get away."

"But how will you get away?" demanded Bucks.

Stanley laughed. "Never mind Bob. He could crawl through a Cheyenne
village with a camp-fire on his back. It's what to do with you, Bucks,
that bothers us."

"Just you get on, colonel," urged Bob. "I'll manage all right. Leave
your horse," he added, turning to Bucks, "and you take mine."

Bucks protested and refused to leave Scott