the hills. From wall to wall it is
scarcely forty feet across. One looks up to a slit of blue sky above.

Harshaw halted close to the entrance. "Let's make sure where Mr. Ute is
before we ride in, boys. He might be up on the bluffs layin' for us. Dud,
you an' Tom an' Big Bill go take a look-see an' make sure. We'll come
a-runnin' if we hear yore guns pop."

Two men in uniform rode out of the gulch. At the sight of the rangers
they cantered forward. One was a sergeant.

"Too late," said he. "They done slipped away from us. We took shelter
from the hail under a cutbank where the canyon widens. They musta slipped
by us then. We found their tracks in the wet ground. They're headin' west
again, looks like."

"We've got a warm trail," Harshaw said to Blister Haines. "We better go
right after 'em."

"Hot foot," agreed Blister.

"Major Sheahan's followin' them now. He said for you to come right
along."

The cavalcade moved at once.

CHAPTER XXXI

"DON'T YOU LIKE ME ANY MORE?"

Harshaw's rangers caught up with the militia an hour later. The valley
men were big, tanned, outdoor fellows, whereas the militia company was
composed of young lads from Colorado towns, most of them slight and not
yet fully developed. The state troopers were, however, brisk, alert, and
soldierly. Some of them were not used to riding, but they made the best
of it with the cheerful adaptability of American youth.

The trail of the Indians cut back across the mesa toward Utah. Evidently
they were making for their home country again. Bob began to hope that the
Utes would reach the reservation without a fight. In this desire the
owner of the Slash Lazy D heartily joined. He had no impulses toward the
slaughter of the tribal remnants.

Others of the party did not share this feeling. Without going into the
causes of the Indian troubles, it can safely be said that the
frontiersmen generally believed that the tribes were dangerous and not to
be trusted. In any difficulty between a white and a red man they assumed
the latter was to blame. Many old-timers held that the only way to settle
the Indian question was to exterminate the tribes or at least reduce them
to impotence.

The pursuers followed a hot trail. Twice they had a brush with the rear
guard of the flying Utes, during which Bob heard bullets singing above
his head. He felt a very unpleasant sinking in the pit of his stomach,
and could hardly resist the temptation to slip out of the