ail that boomed in loud reverberations upon the lofty
precipices of the canon sides. But no answering cry came down from the
cliff, nor was there any sign of the hoist cage basket.

The old Navaho raised a shrill quavering wail that carried like the howl
of a coyote. Again the reverberating echoes ran up the precipices and
slowly died out far above, and again no response came from the top of
the cross barrier.

"The lazy skunks!" growled Slade. "Off watch, huh? Keep me waiting, will
they? I'll tan their dirty hides for 'em."

He rode down canon a few yards and emptied his revolver into the air,
firing the shots in couples. This time the echoes had not died out
skyward before a dark face with cloth-bound forehead peered down from
the brink of the cross cliff. Slade roared up an angry command--and
abruptly fell silent.

The downlooker was making some quick gestures. Slade flung up his hand
in an answering gesture. The signaller disappeared. Slade shouted an
order to the best mounted of his men. The Navaho wheeled his pony and
raced away down canon on the back trail.

The basket cage of the lift swung out over the cliff brink. It began to
lower. Regardless of hoof marks, Slade spurred his pony up the foot
ledges. Lennon followed with the others.

A glance at the trader's face had told him danger was toward.

Lennon could think of but two explanations. Either a band of vengeful
cattlemen had discovered and attacked the rustlers' secret stronghold,
or Cochise had returned and taken advantage of Slade's absence to carry
out his designs against Elsie.

The man sent back by Slade evidently was riding to summon reinforcements
of Navahos from the pueblo. Whether they were to be used against the
Apaches or to aid them against an outside posse was the question. If
the first were the case, Lennon felt that he must be armed to fight.

The thought of either Elsie or Carmena in the clutches of Cochise filled
him with dread and horror. The suspense of the uncertainty was
unbearable. He forced his pony up beside the trader's pinto while the
basket cage was yet several feet overhead.

"See here, Slade," he said, "you've given me a rough deal. But we're
both white men. We can't permit Cochise to have Farley's girls. That is
unthinkable. I'll agree to forget the snake. Give me my rifle and we'll
go through with our bargain."

"Like hell we will!" growled the trader. "Minute I turned my back you'd
pot me."

"No," pledged Lenno