t killing him. The Coyote would surrender
before he would kill his horse to effect his escape or gain an
objective!

Thus they slipped down the narrow canyon, with the desert stars
gleaming white above the lava hills of Imagination Range, while the
fire glowed on the peak above Joe Price's cabin. Rathburn's face was
pale under his tan; his thoughts were in a turmoil, but his lips were
pressed into a fine line that denoted an unwavering determination. Had
Sheriff Bob Long seen his face at this time he might have glimpsed
another angle of Rathburn's many-sided character--an angle which would
have given him pause.

Rathburn looked behind, and his eyes narrowed. Two fires were burning
on the peak.

Already the watchers were cognizant of his latest move and were
signaling to those who might be below. He wondered vaguely why they
had not surrounded Joe Price's cabin while he had been there. Then he
realized he had been there hardly long enough for his pursuers to get
there in any number. Suddenly his thoughts were broken into by a
streak of red in the canyon depths below him. He swerved close against
the rock wall, drew his gun, and, speaking to the dun, drove in his
spurs.

A short distance below he could see the faint glow of the starlight
night and knew he was near the canyon's mouth. There were more streaks
of red, and bullets whistled past him. Then Rathburn raised his gun
and sent half its deadly contents crashing down into the trail ahead.

There followed a few moments of quiet, broken only by the harsh,
ringing pound of his mount's hoofs. Rathburn could see open country
just ahead. Then a flash of fire came from almost under him, and the
big dun lunged into the air, half twisting, and came down upon some
object under its hoofs. The dun bounded on in great leaps, literally
flying through the air, as Rathburn thrilled with the knowledge that
the horse had knocked down the man who had sought to kill him.

From above came sharp reports, and the blackness of the high canyon
walls was streaked with spurts of flame. Leaden death hurled itself
into the rock trail behind him. Then he was out of the canyon, riding
like mad through the white desert night toward his goal--the Mallory
ranch!

* * * * *

Laura Mallory stood on the porch of the little ranch house, staring
out across the dimly lit spaces of desert. A worried look appeared in
her eyes. The front door was open, and i