exchange with the fighting mountaineers. All drew rein a little.
"Suppose I cover the rear till we see what this is," suggested
Lefever, limbering up as the other two looked back. "Push ahead with
Sassoon. These fellows won't follow far."

"Don't be sure about that," muttered Scott. "Duke and Gale have got
the best horses in the mountains, and they'd rather fight than eat.
There they come now."

Dashing across a plain they themselves had just crossed, they could
see three horsemen in hot chase. The pursued men rode carefully, and,
scanning the ground everywhere ahead and behind, de Spain, Scott, and
Lefever awaited the moment when their pursuers should show their hand.
Scott was on the west of the line, and nearest the enemy.

"Who are they, Bob?" yelled Lefever.

Scott scrutinized the pursuers carefully. "One," he called back, "that
big fellow on the right, is Deaf Sandusky, sure. Harvey Logan, likely,
the middle man. The other I can't make out. Look!" he exclaimed,
pointing to the foot-hills on their distant left. Two men, riding out
almost abreast of them, were running their horses for a small canyon
through which the trail led two miles ahead. "Some riding," cried
Scott, watching the newcomers. "That farther man must be Gale Morgan.
They are trying for the greasewood canyon, to cut us off."

"We can't stand for that," decided de Spain, surveying the ground
around them. "There's not so much as a sage-brush here for cover."

Lefever pointed to his right; at some distance a dark, weather-beaten
cone rose above the yellow desert. "Let's make a stand in the lava
beds," he cried.

De Spain hesitated. "It takes us the wrong way." He pointed ahead.
"Give them a run for that canyon, boys."

Urging their horses, the Sleepy Cat men rode at utmost speed to beat
the flanking party to the trail gateway. For a few minutes it looked
an even break between pursuers and pursued. The two men in the
foot-hills now had a long angle to overcome, but they were doing a
better pace than those of the Gap party behind, and half-way to the
canyon it looked like a neck-and-neck heat for the narrow entrance.
Lefever complained of the effort of keeping up, and at length reined
in his horse. "Drop me here on the alkali, boys," he cried to the
others. "I'll hold this end while you get through the canyon."

"No," declared de Spain, checking his pace. "If one stays, all stay.
This is as good a time as any to find out what these fellows mean