and the foot dragged.

"I reckon I ain't injured much," replied Him. "But my leg hurts like
hell, if you want to know."

"Laddy! Oh, where's Laddy?"

"He's just across the crack there. I was trying to get to him. We had
it hot an' heavy down here. Laddy was pretty bad shot up before he
tried to head Rojas off the trail.... Dick, did you see the Yaqui go
after Rojas?"

"Did I!" exclaimed Gale, grimly.

"The finish was all that saved me from runnin' loco plumb over the rim.
You see I was closer'n you to where Mercedes was hid. When Rojas an'
his last Greaser started across, Laddy went after them, but I couldn't.
Laddy did for Rojas's man, then went down himself. But he got up an'
fell, got up, went on, an' fell again. Laddy kept doin' that till he
dropped for good. I reckon our chances are against findin' him
alive.... I tell you, boys, Rojas was hell-bent. An' Mercedes was game.
I saw her shoot him. But mebbe bullets couldn't stop him then. If I
didn't sweat blood when Mercedes was fightin' him on the cliff! Then
the finish! Only a Yaqui could have done that.... Thorne, you didn't
miss it?"

"Yes, I was down and out," replied the cavalryman.

"It's a shame. Greatest stunt I ever seen! Thorne, you're standin' up
pretty fair. How about you? Dick, is he bad hurt?"

"No, he's not. A hard knock on the skull and a scalp wound," replied
Dick. "Here, Jim, let me help you over this place."

Step by step Gale got the two injured men down the uneven declivity and
then across the narrow lava bridge over the fissure. Here he bade them
rest while he went along the trail on that side to search for Laddy.
Gale found the ranger stretched out, face downward, a reddened hand
clutching a gun. Gale thought he was dead. Upon examination, however,
it was found that Ladd still lived, though he had many wounds. Gale
lifted him and carried him back to the others.

"He's alive, but that's all," said Dick, as he laid the ranger down.
"Do what you can. Stop the blood. Laddy's tough as cactus, you know.
I'll hurry back for Mercedes and Yaqui."

Gale, like a fleet, sure-footed mountain sheep, ran along the trail.
When he came across the Mexican, Rojas's last ally, Gale had evidence
of the terrible execution of the .405. He did not pause. On the first
part of that descent he made faster time than had Rojas. But he
exercised care along the hard, slippery, ragged slope leading to the
ledge. Presently he came upon