y had gone
two hundred yards a score of angry redskins were at their
heels. It seemed a futile race, for the Indians numbered
some hundreds, and it was a moral certainty it could be
only a question of time before they were run down. They
knew that under the circumstances there would be no
prisoners taken. It was not long before the pace began
to tell on them.

"I'm afraid I'm played out," gasped Douglas, "go on, my
friends, for I can't go any farther. I'll be able to keep
them back for a few minutes while you make your way up
the valley. Now then, good-bye, and get on!"

He plumped down behind a rock, and waited for the advancing
foe.

Pasmore caught him by the arm and dragged him to his
feet. The others had stopped also. It was not likely they
were going to allow their friend and master to sacrifice
himself in such a fashion.

"Let's make up this ravine, sir," cried Pasmore. "Come,
give me your arm; we may be able to fool them yet. There's
lots of big rocks lying about that will be good cover.
There's no man going to be left behind this trip."

High walls of clay rose up on either side, so that at
least the Indians could not outflank them. At first the
latter, thinking that the troublesome escapers were
effectually cornered, essayed an injudicious rush in upon
them, but the result was a volley that dropped three and
made the remainder seek convenient rocks. Taking what
cover they could the white men retired up the narrow
valley. It was becoming lighter now, and they could
distinctly see the skulking, shadowy forms of the redskins
as they stole from rock to rock. Suddenly they made a
discovery that filled them with consternation. They had
come to the end of the valley and were literally in a
_cul-de-sac!_ They were indeed caught like rats in a
trap.

"I'm afraid we're cornered," exclaimed Douglas, "but
we've got some powder and shot left yet."

"Yes," remarked Pasmore, "we'll keep them off as long as
we can. I can't understand why the troops are not following
those fellows up. There's no getting out of this, I
fear,"--he looked at the crescent of unscalable cliff--"but
I don't believe in throwing up the sponge. I've always
found that when things seemed at their worst they were
just on the mend."

He did not say that there was a very powerful incentive
in his heart just then that in itself was more than
sufficient to make him cling to life. It was the thought
of Dorothy.

Half-an-hour more and the In