you wanted him he might
have waited. Why didn't you phone? Ninety mile' around the mesa, nearest
way, an' it must be all of five o'clock now, by the sun."

He stopped, puzzled by the change in the sheriff's face. Chagrin had
given place to exultation.

"Catch the seven o'clock train at Caroca?" said Jordan. "Thanks for the
information, Mormon. That schedule was changed last week when they
pulled off two trains on the main line. The train leaves at nine-thirty
an', if I can't make ninety miles in four hours an' a half, I'll make
you a present of my car. Stand back, both of you. No monkey business
with my tires. Cover 'em, boys. The law's on my side, you two gabbing
word-shooters."

He handled the car wonderfully, backing and turning her, and, while
Mormon and Sam stood powerless, the former crestfallen, the latter
sardonically gazing at his partner, the machine went tilting, snorting
down the gorge.

"You sure spilled the beans, Mormon," said Sam finally. "I'd have
thought them three wives of yores 'ud have taught you the vally of
silence."

"I ain't got a damned word to say, Sam. But I'd be obliged if you'd kick
me--good. Use yore heels, I see you got yore spurs on."

CHAPTER VIII

THE PASS OF THE GOATS

In the throat of the gorge the sun shone red on the tawny cliffs. The
trail, a scant four feet wide at its best, with crumbled, weathered
margin, crept along the face of the cliff above a deep canyon where the
night shadows had already gathered in a purple flood, slowly rising as
the rays of the setting sun shifted upward, not yet staining the summit.

It was close to seven o'clock. Sandy's lean face was anxious. The girl
drooped in her seat tired from the long climb, not yet inured to the
saddle. The horses traveled gamely, sure-footed but obviously losing
endurance. Every little while they stopped of their own accord, their
flanks heaving painfully in the altitude.

Sandy had only once crossed the Pass of the Goats and that was years
before. There had been washouts since then. Several times they were
forced to dismount and lead the nervous beasts, Sandy doing the coaxing,
helping Molly over the difficult places. He rode a mare named Goldie and
the girl a bay with a white blaze that Sandy had chosen for the mountain
work and which had been brought to them at the lava strip.

The mare halted, neck stretched out, turning it to look inquiringly at
her master. A sharp incline lay ahead, the path littl