r he
was hurrying toward the remuda.

CHAPTER XXXII

A CUP OF COLD WATER

The pursuers caught up with the Utes the third day out from Bear Cat. It
was in the morning, shortly after they had broken camp, that Houck and
Big Bill while scouting in advance of the troop jumped up an Indian out
of the sagebrush.

He made across the mesa toward the river. Houck fired at him twice as he
ran, but the sentinel disappeared from sight apparently unhit. The sound
of the firing brought up rapidly the main body of the troopers. Before
Major Sheahan and Harshaw could work out a programme another Indian
sentry could be seen running through the sage.

The sight of him was like that of a red rag to a bull. Not waiting for
orders, a dozen punchers instantly gave chase. The rest of the party
followed. Houck was in the lead. Not far behind was Bob Dillon.

The mesa bench dropped sharply down a bare shale scarp to the willows
growing near the river. The Indian camp below could be seen from the edge
of the bluff. But the rush to cut off the Ute was so impetuous that the
first riders could not check their horses. They plunged down the bare
slope at a headlong gallop.

Bob heard the ping of bullets as they sang past him. He saw little
spatters of sand flung up where they struck. As his horse slithered down
on its haunches through the rubble, the man just in front of him dived
headlong from his horse. Bob caught one horrified glimpse of him rolling
over and clutching at his breast. Next moment Dillon, too, was down. His
mount had been shot under him.

He jumped up and ran for the willows, crouching low as he sped through
the sage. Into the bushes he flung himself and lay panting. He quaked
with fear. Every instant he expected to see the Utes rushing toward him.
His rifle was gone, lost in the fall. The hand that drew the revolver
from his belt trembled as with an ague.

Only a few of the riders had been unable to check themselves on the edge
of the bluff. The others had now drawn back out of sight. A wounded horse
lay kicking on the slope. It was the one upon which Bob had been mounted.
The huddled figure of a man, with head grotesquely twisted, sat astride a
clump of brush. Another sprawled on the hillside, arms and legs
outflung.

Below, in the sage not far from the willows, another body lay in the
sand. This one moved. Bob could see the man trying to hitch himself
toward the shelter of the river bushes. Evidently he was ba