and whined across the silence. A shrill call told him that the pursuers
had discovered the body of their fellow.

Dex, with ears laid back, took the ragged grade in great, uneven leaps
that shortened to a regular stride as they gained the level of the
valley. Glancing back, Waring saw Ramon but a few yards behind. He
signaled to him to ride closer. Together they swung down the valley,
dodging the low brush--and leaping rocks at top speed.

Finally Waring reined in. "We'll make for that ridge,"--and he
indicated the range west. Under cover of the brush they angled across
the valley and began the ascent of the range which hid the western
desert.

Halfway up, Waring dismounted. "Lead my horse on up," he told Ramon.
"I'll argue it out with 'em here."

"Señor, I have killed a man!" gasped Ramon.

Waring flung the reins to his companion. "All right! This isn't a
fiesta, hombre; this is business."

Ramon turned and put his horse up the slope, Dex following. Waring
curled behind a rock and swept the valley with his glass. The heads of
several rurales were visible in the brush. They had halted and were
looking for tracks. Finally one of them raised his arm and pointed
toward the hill. They had caught sight of Ramon on the slope above.
Presently three riders appeared at the foot of the grade. It was a long
shot from where Waring lay. He centered on the leading rural, allowed
for a chance of overshooting, and pressed the trigger. The carbine