nced wildly and made it impossible for Tom to swing up.

Dud dismounted. The panicky horse backed away, eyes filled with terror.
It rose into the air, trembling. Dud tried to coax it to good behavior.

The moments were flying, bringing the Utes nearer every instant.

"We gotta make a run for it, Dud," his companion said hurriedly. "To the
willows over there."

There was no choice. Hollister let go the bridle and ran. Scarcely fifty
yards behind them came the Utes.

Even in their high-heeled boots the cowpunchers ran fast. Once within the
shelter of the willows they turned and opened fire. This quite altered
the situation. The foremost brave faltered in his pigeon-toed stride,
stopped abruptly, and dived for the shelter of a sagebush. The others
veered off to the right. They disappeared into some blackberry bushes on
the edge of the mesa. Whether from here they continued to the valley the
punchers in the willows could not tell.

"Some lucky getaway," Dud panted.

"Thought I was a goner sure when they plugged my bronc," said Reeves.

He took a careful shot at the sagebush behind which the Indian had taken
refuge. The Ute ran away limping.

"Anyhow, that guy's got a souvenir to remember me by. Compliments of Tom
Reeves," grinned the owner of that name.

"We've got to get back to the boys somehow. I reckon they're havin' quite
a party on the ridge," Dud said.

The sound of brisk firing came across the mesa to them. It was evident
that the whites and redskins had met on the ridge and were disputing for
possession of it.

"My notion is we'd better stick around here for a while," Reeves
demurred. "I kinda hate to hoof it acrost the flat an' be a target the
whole darned way."

This seemed good to Hollister. The troopers seemed to be holding their
own. They had not been driven back. The smoke of their rifles showed
along the very summit of the rock-rim. The inference was that the Utes
had been forced to fall back.

The two rangers lay in the willows for hours. The firing had died down,
recommenced, and again ceased. Once there came the sound of shots from
the right, down in the valley close by the river.

"They're likely gettin' the fellow that wasn't killed when he went over
the bluff," Dud suggested. "There ain't a thing we can do to help him
either."

"That's it, I reckon. They're collectin' him now. Wonder which of the
boys it is."

Dud felt a twinge of conscience. There was nothing he could do to help