unted Pete's pony and rushed the party up to the head of the canon.
Instead of preparing to hold this position until the arrival of his
reinforcements, he kept on up the valley at a jog trot. Once clear of
the canon, Lennon could make out the sound of distant shots echoing down
the valley along the cliffs.

Within the first half mile the rescuers came upon a drove of big
American horses. Every one showed signs of cruel driving over rocks and
through thornscrub and cactus. When they scented the Navahos they
snorted with terror, and all but two managed to bolt clear.

In a trice the Indians had each of the frightened pair bridled with a
leather thong fast about the lower jaw. Pete mounted the better animal.
Slade drew rein beside the other horse and glowered at Lennon.

"How about it?" he demanded. "You said you'd back me up. How do I know I
can count on you not knifing me?"

"You have my word," replied Lennon, striving hard to repress his
eagerness.

The irregular firing up the valley became more rapid. Slade scowled and
thrust out Lennon's high-power rifle.

"It's a go--that new deal. Take your belt, too. Guess I can count on you
till Cochise is made a good Indian."

With the white men and Pete mounted and the unmounted Navahos each
gripping the mane of a horse, the party rushed up the valley at
redoubled speed. Midway Slade angled down into the bed of an arroyo that
curved around on the right of the corral and up to the mouth of Hell
Canon. Though the horses were kept at a fast trot, the Navahos ran along
beside them, seemingly without effort.

As the head of the valley was neared, the irregular crackling roar of
the rifle shots abruptly ceased. Lennon's heart skipped a beat. The
sudden hush might mean that Cochise had given up his attack on the
cliff house. On the other hand, it might be due to an overwhelming of
the defense.

Slade sent one of his men springing up the side of the arroyo. The
Navaho glanced over the edge of the bank toward the cliff house and
dashed obliquely back into the dry channel, his hand twisting in swift
signs. Slade held on up the arroyo. Near the mouth of Hell Canon he
flung himself off and motioned Lennon to follow.

The old Navaho led the way up the side of the reservoir, with Pete a
close second. Near the top the leaders flattened down to crawl over the
round of the ancient dam. The others crept after them. A muttered
command from Slade had kept Lennon in the rear. But a sudde