he last sharp
twist in the descent, the still air vibrated with a sibilant rattle.
Slade's pony snorted and jumped sideways, leaving Lennon a clear view of
the big diamond-back rattlesnake that lay coiled in the middle of the
trail. The gaping jaws of the angry snake and the peculiar billowing of
its body so fixed Lennon's gaze that he only half glimpsed the final
stumble of Slade's pony.

Unable to keep his footing among the loose stones of the side slope, the
exhausted animal plunged headlong. Slade managed to fling himself clear,
but fell prone on the sharp-edged stones. His nose was skinned and one
cheek gashed. He bounded up, fairly beside himself with rage, and began
to kick the head of the fallen pony.

The luckless beast struggled to rise, got half to his feet, screamed,
and fell over. Something about his hindquarters had been wrenched or
torn or broken. Slade swore furiously and jerked out his revolver to
fire repeatedly into the body of the struggling beast. The fourth shot
was through the head.

At the sudden stilling of his victim's struggles, the trader's half
insane rage cooled from its mad heat without losing any of its
virulence. One of the Navahos had dismounted and run forward to stone
the rattlesnake. Slade uttered a guttural hissing command. Instead of
crushing the snake, the Indian teased it with the butt of his leather
quirt.

The reptile lashed out in a vicious stroke. An instant later the Navaho
straightened up with his hand gripped about the snake's neck close
behind the deadly triangular head. He gave no heed to its five-foot body
writhing and coiling about his bare arm.

Slade swung up into the path and looked from the new prisoner to Lennon
with a glint in his pale eyes as malignant as the cold glare of the
snake.

"You're one of these here science sharps," he jeered. "We'll have you
test out if a Gila monster bite fixes a man against rattler poison."

"Rather a costly experiment for you if I prove not to be immune,"
rallied Lennon. "You must have a keen interest in science so to risk
your ten thousand."

"Mebbe. It ain't much of a gamble, though. I stand to rake in twenty
thousand if I win, and you ain't liable to let it go as far as the
bite."

"Twenty thousand?" questioned Lennon. "If you take Cochise in on this
blackmailing scheme, you will have to divide the proceeds with him. Why
not keep your bargain and earn your half of the bonus without this risk
of losing all?"

The