Jesse James' Bold Stroke; Or, The Double Bank Robbery

JESSE JAMES' BOLD
STROKE

OR

The Double Bank Robbery

BY WILLIAM WARD

Jesse and his band while passing through Colorado on their way east have many exciting adventures. The great desperado is captured by the Indians, after a battle with United States Cavalry and is rescued by an Indian maiden. He blows up an Indian village with dynamite and performs other of the daring feats for which he was so noted during his career. In a mining city in Colorado, he saves the life of a sheriff and robs two banks, from which he and his men carry away more than a hundred thousand dollars.

ADVENTURE SERIES No. 31

Copyright, 1909, by The Arthur Westbrook Company

Published by

THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY,

CLEVELAND, U.S.A.

"He pushed out beyond the shadows of the trees."

CONTENTS.

Jesse James' Bold Stroke
OR
The Double Bank Robbery.

[Chapter I.]

INDIANS!

"Look! Look!"

The cry was uttered by the foremost of a little band of horsemen riding slowly in single file over the rocky bed of what had once been a raging torrent.

Darkness was descending over the canyon-traversed wilds of Southern Colorado and the air was hot and still.

Towering high above them, sinister and awesome in the half light rose solid walls of rock.

And as the leader of the little band had rounded a jutting crag, he beheld a sight that had brought the startled cry to his lips.

Far down the canyon, two fires glowed, seeming, in the darkness, like the luminous eyes of some wild monster.

Roused by the exclamation of their companion, the others drew rein, peering intently ahead of them.

Footsore and weary, for they had travelled fast and far during the day that was just drawing to a close, the jaded horses stood, with heads hanging low, while their riders stared ahead of them.

"Them's either signal fires or camp fires," grunted one of the men, after a careful study of the brilliant lights.

"Ain't you the wise lad, though," snorted another. "You talk as though we were tenderfeet. Any fool knows they're camp or signal fires.

"It's which of the two they are that counts. Tell us that and you'll be saying something."

"Well, Comanche Tony's the laddy buck who can find out," snapped the man who had first espied the glaring fires, slipping from his saddle.

And without heeding the protests of the others, he glided away, soon being lost to sight among the rocks.

The little band of horsemen were none other than Jesse James' notorious gang of outlaws.

After their sensational hold-ups of the Overland Stages in the Devil's Burying Ground, the last one of which had been done under the very noses of a troop of United States cavalrymen, the outlaws had headed for Arizona.

Hiding in caves and riding by night they had eluded the troopers and, at last, in the belief that they had outdistanced their pursuers, they had relaxed their caution, continuing their flight by day instead of under cover of darkness.

Consequently, when the member of the desperate gang of cut throats who was in the lead had caught sight of the fires, they were struck with consternation.

"It doesn't seem possible them sojers could have ridden round us," exclaimed Bob Moore, as Comanche Tony disappeared on his reconnaissance.

And this statement voiced the opinion of the others.

"No, it doesn't," returned the bandit-chieftain. "But you can't tell. Maybe they've sent word to one of the forts to the south of us and they've sent out a searching party."

"Phew! That would be tough!" gasped Sam Dirks. "We'd be between two fires, sojers in front of us and sojers behind us. It would take some figurin' on your part, Jess, to get us out."

The fact was so patent that the leader of the outlaws made no comment.

Well he realized the danger such a contingency would mean, yet till his trusted pal had returned from his scouting expedition, he could make no plans.

Finding that they could not draw their chief out, the others whispered among themselves for a while, finally lapsing into silence.

Steadily the two fires, that had so startled them, burned.

Once or twice, some of the bandits thought they beheld figures moving about them.

But the fancied forms disappeared so suddenly that they could not be sure.

"Seems as though it was taking Tony an all-fired long time," growled Wild Bill, glancing about him, uneasily.

But scarcely had the words left his lips than a piercing shriek rent the air.

"That's Tony!" "Suthin's happened to him!" "He's caught!" ejaculated the startled bandits.

With a burst of sulphurous profanity, Jesse slid from his horse.

"Whatever has happened, we must go to him," he snapped. "Frank, you and Sam stay here with the horses. The rest of you come with me. Be lively now!"

Yet before the desperadoes were out of their saddles, they received still another surprise.

The fires vanished.

With a suddenness that savoured of the magician's art, the two balls of flame disappeared before their very eyes.

"It's the Devil's work," gasped Bud Noble.

"Devil nothing!" snarled the world-famous desperado. "Come on! We must rescue Comanche!"

Little relishing the task of advancing down the canyon whose jagged sides seemed alive with men, so excited were the imaginations of the outlaws, they hastened on, stumbling and tripping over the rock-strewn trail.

With Wild Bill beside him, Jesse led the way.

Every few yards they stopped to listen.

But all was as silent as the tomb.

"I reckon we're purty close to whar the fires were," whispered Wild Bill, at last. "I can smell the smoke from 'em."

"Guess you're right. Boys, get your shooting irons ready. We're liable to run into an ambush any time. Keep to the rocks as much as you can."

But his warning was of no avail.

Of a sudden, the still, hot air was rent with whoops and yells.

"Injuns, or I'm a nigger!" gasped Wild Bill. "Poor Tony! He's in for it bad—unless we get to him!"

Jesse, however, had made a more important discovery.

The shouts of defiance had come from above.

And as the last warwhoop rolled back and forth between the towering cliffs, he raised his pistols, pointing them at random.

Crack! Crack!

Sharp and loud their report rang out.

Sounded a shriek of mingled pain and terror and the next instant a dark mass came hurtling down upon the little group of men standing huddled together on the rocky bottom of the canyon.

The smell of powder broke the spell that had fallen upon Jesse's comrades.

With rousing cheers, they greeted the falling form.

Viciously their pistols barked as they emptied them at the towering cliff.

But their exultation was short lived.

Yells, hoarse with rage, broke from the Indians.

High above them rang some commands in the native tongue.

And the next instant a deluge of rocks and stones was launched from the cliff above.

Fortunately for the little band of outlaws, the Indians had misjudged their position and the avalanche of missiles fell to the south of them.

Some of the scattering stones, however, struck the bandits, inflicting flesh and scalp wounds.

Walled in between the two sides of the canyon, the din was deafening.

All at once, as there came a momentary lull while the redskins awaited the result of their broadside, a voice bellowed:

"Back, boys! Run for your lives! The bucks have tons of rocks!"

It was Comanche Tony, who, despite the danger he ran of having a knife jabbed into him as he spoke, had braved death to warn his pals.

A moment Jesse hesitated.

Loath was he to leave his intrepid pal in the hands of the Indians. But he realized that should they tarry longer where they were, in the face of Tony's warning, the lives of all of them might be crushed out in a death more horrible than by bullets or torture—their bodies mashed to a pulp between the boulders hurled from the cliff and the rocky bottom of the canyon.

"Stop firing! Back to the horses!" he roared.

Amazed at this desertion of their comrade, the outlaws, nevertheless, obeyed.

And scarcely had they moved from where they had been standing before another broadside of boulders was launched.

"That was a close call," gasped Bud Noble. "It's a good thing we started when we did. But it don't seem right to leave Tony."

"We're not going to leave him," snapped the world-famous desperado. "When we get back to the horses, I'm going to take Wild Bill and Texas and go after him."

Anxious and excited were the two desperadoes who had been left in charge of the horses as they heard the sounds of conflict down the canyon.

Ignorant of how, what they supposed was a battle, might have gone, when they caught sight of the forms running toward them, Frank challenged:

"Who's coming? Halt or we'll fire!"

"It's all right! Don't shoot!" returned Jesse.

Relieved at finding the approaching figures were their comrades returning, Sam cried:

"Have you got Tony?"

But the world-famous desperado made no answer.

"The rest of you wait here. Post sentries and keep your eyes and ears open.

"Don't move from here till I get back. Come Bill. Come Texas."

And, his two pals at his heels, Jesse started up the canyon in the direction from which they were coming when they had first seen the fires, bound for a break in the wall of rock he had noticed as he passed.

But though he found it, because of the darkness, he was unable to make any headway, ignorant of the lay of the land as he was and, at last, he was forced to abandon his attempts to rescue Comanche Tony, deciding to wait till daylight should come.

[Chapter II.]

TIED TO THE STAKE.

When Comanche Tony had glided from his companions at the bend of the canyon, little did he think what was in store for him.

Stung to the quick by the unjustified slur of the brother of the bandit-chieftain, he was fiercely resentful, muttering to himself as he dodged from rock to rock.

Silently, stealthily, the wily old bandit drew nearer and nearer to the fire.

But he was labouring under a disadvantage that was to be his undoing.

Constantly was he looking at the two fires as he advanced and their glare so blinded him that he was unable to see aught at either side of them.

But the crouching forms that lurked in the shadows of the cliffs were not so handicapped because their backs were toward the flames.

Warned by the echo of hoofbeats, as the outlaws rode down the canyon, the Indians had ample time to arrange their ambush.

Who the travellers were, it mattered not to them.

They were on the warpath and redskin or paleface was equally welcome.

Yet so craftily did Comanche Tony approach that he was almost upon them ere the keen eyes of the expectant bucks had detected his stooping form as he glided from one rock to another with absolute noiselessness.

Startled to think that any one could get so near to them and disappointed that they were to capture only one prisoner, the bucks watched the bandit steal nearer and nearer.

Bodies crouched, muscles tense, the savages waited till their victim was close to the fire.

Scenting a trick, since he had been allowed to approach unchallenged and could discern no sleeping forms about the fire, Comanche Tony had turned, determined to get back to his pals without delay.

But he was too late.

No sooner had he faced about than the air was full of leaping forms which the glare from the fires showed to be streaked with gaudy-hued paints.

Instantly the outlaw realized that they were Indians.

Yet so sudden had been their appearance that they were upon him, encircling him with their powerful arms, ere he could draw his six shooters.

For the moment, it maddened him to think that he, old Indian fighter that he was, had walked unsuspectingly into the snare of the cunning redmen, but only for a moment.

If he had been caught, his pals should not be.

And, utterly heedless of what the consequences might be to himself, the intrepid old bandit let out a yell.

Startled, the bucks gazed at their captive an instant, then their amazement gave way to snarls as a dozen hands sought Tony's throat, to choke off his outcry.

And it was the terrific pressure exerted by the steel-like fingers that had given to the shout of warning, the peculiar half wail, half roar, which Jesse and his men had heard.

Maddened by such defiance, the redskins uttered a few hoarse commands and the next instant Tony felt himself lifted from his feet and carried, in sturdy arms, up a path in the cliff.

But even then, desperate as his predicament was, the fearless outlaw's thoughts were of his fellows rather than of himself and he muttered:

"I've warned the boys, anyhow, no matter if I did get caught in springing the trap."

Yet he was quickly recalled to his surroundings by feeling his feet set on a rock.

Accustomed by this time to the darkness, Comanche Tony was able to make out that he and his captors were on a ledge in the cliff along the edge of which was a black, irregular mass.

Forgetting, in his eagerness to discover what this was, that he was a prisoner, the intrepid bandit stepped forward.

Uttering vicious grunts, two bucks grabbed him and threw him roughly against the wall of rock behind them.

"Paleface heap fool," snarled one of his guards. "Get too fresh, fall over ledge, spoil Injun's fun!"

"By my scalp, but I must have suthin' pleasant ahead of me if fallin' to my death will spoil these devil's fun!" thought Comanche Tony.

But again the contemplation of the perilousness of his own plight was forgotten in the realization that his reckless attempt to warn his pals had been of no avail.

For, in the brief interval that he had gazed on the edge of the ledge, he had seen several bucks frantically beating out the two fires with their blankets, and he knew that whatever their game, the world-famous desperado and his men would be in grave danger, forced, as they would be, to advance in the darkness.

Yet had he been an instant later, he would have seen the same braves hurriedly scoop handfuls of dirt onto the glowing coals, after which they covered the piles with their blankets and bounded up the path to the ledge.

On their arrival, a hasty pow-wow was held and the next minute Comanche Tony had learned the purpose of the irregular mass of black along the edge of the ledge.

Lying flat on their bellies, the Indians braced their feet against the wall of rock and threw out their hands in front of them.

A sickening fear gripped the heart of the bandit as he divined that the objects were stones to be hurled from the ledge.

Wondering if he could warn his pals of the terrible fate awaiting them, Tony's eyes were drawn to the figure of an Indian standing clear of the others.

Like a statue he loomed.

All at once, he uttered an ear splitting yell.

He had caught sight of a black line of objects moving in the canyon below.

Immediately his braves joined in and as the strident warwhoops rent the air, the prostrate bucks exerted their strength and the first avalanche of stones was started on its mission of death.

But that it was launched too soon, the reader already knows.

The suspense to Tony, however, was awful as he strained his ears for the sound of his pals' voices.

And as he heard their yells of defiance he heaved a mighty sigh of relief which ended in a grunt of delight as he saw the figure of the Indian lookout topple and pitch to the bottom even while the report of a pistol rang out.

"That was Jesse's shot, I'll bet!" he chuckled.

But his exultation vanished as he saw the bucks stretched out on the ledge move along to more stones.

And then it was that, tempting Fate for the second time, he had shouted his warning to his pals to flee for their lives.

Too late was it for the redskins to save their missiles as his cry rang out.

But even as the boulders were hurtling to the bottom of the canyon, the braves leaped to their feet and charged him.

So terrible was their anger, that they almost crushed the bandit as they pressed about him.

"Have your fun if you want," grunted Comanche Tony. "I can't die but once. But it'll be the sorriest work you devils ever did if you do kill me!"

The tone in which the fearless old Indian fighter uttered this defiance was as calm and cool as though he were talking to a group of children instead of to a pack of blood-thirsty savages.

His gameness amazed his captors, though it only made them crush him against the rocks the more furiously.

But as he closed his eyes to keep out the sight of the hideous, passion-distorted faces before him, a deep-lunged voice uttered some sharp commands.

In a trice, the terrible pressure relaxed and the next moment the outlaw felt himself again raised from his feet and borne rapidly upward.

Ere many minutes he could tell that he was again on a level and instantly his mind sought some scheme by which he could kill time.

For he felt that the world-famous desperado would not leave him to the anything but tender mercies of the savages.

Yet had he known that his beloved chief was even then returning to his pals, having failed to find a way to scale the wall of rock, he would have been sad, indeed.

But he did not know and his ignorance was bliss, in truth.

As Comanche Tony racked his brain for some manner to delay his captors, more commands rang out and the Indians who were carrying him set him down.

The moon had just risen above the peaks of the mountains to the east and, in its light, the bandit saw that he was on a plateau sparsely covered with stunted trees.

To one of these his captors guided him.

As he reached it, a couple of the braves lopped off the lower branches.

Whirling him roughly, his guards backed him against the tree trunk and while they held him, others deftly bound him to the improvised stake with lariats they had brought with them from the bottom of the canyon.

Grave, indeed, was his situation.

And it needed no one to tell the captive bandit that the redmen proposed to burn him at the stake when they should tire of their preliminary tortures.

But as his plight became more desperate, Comanche Tony became the more determined to gain time.

Only one expedient was there of which he could think that was adequate in his dire extremity.

He must scare the painted bucks.

And while he was considering whether he could do this the most readily by threatening them with vengeance at the hands of the world-famous desperado, or by telling them a squad of United States cavalry were on their trail, the Indians made what was, to them, a fatal move.

They kindled a fire about two rods from where Comanche Tony stood tied to the stake.

As the tongues of flame leaped in the air, their reflection was seen by Jesse James and his men in the canyon.

"By thunder! Do you suppose that's from the Injuns or the sojers?" asked Wild Bill, as his chief sprang to his feet.

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out!

"There's no need of waiting till morning.

"Come on, everybody. We'll go down to where the first fires were."

Quickly the desperadoes started, for they had ill liked the thought of leaving their pal to his fate.

With Texas Jack and Wild Bill at his side, the bandit chieftain advanced till he reached the heaps of broken boulders that had come so near to being their death a short time before.

As the bandits gazed up at the top of the wall of rock, Texas remarked:

"It's a cinch, Jess, those bucks have some trail up the cliff. We didn't find any place to scale it, back where we come from, and by the looks of the wall ahead, there isn't any break, so they couldn't have got to the end of the canyon and back on top in such a short time.

"That being so, it means there's some path near here."

"Then we'll look for it. Get busy, boys. Comanche Tony's life may depend on our haste."

With a will, the outlaws set about examining the side of the canyon.

And while they searched, their pal was sparring for time with his infuriated captives.

"See here, my buckos," he said, his voice as cool as when he had addressed them before, "I reckon you're making a mistake. I haven't done you any harm.

"But if you touch a hair on my head thar's not one of you who won't be shot to pay for it!"

The redskin warriors, to the number of a score, had been standing about the fire, now and then turning toward their captive as they jabbered excitedly, evidently arguing over some part of their contemplated torture.

But as the calm words fell on their ears, they all faced about, while one of them, whose peculiar head-dress proclaimed him to be a chief, grunted:

"Paleface talk heap big. Navajos fool paleface frien's. How um know Navajos kill paleface. Heap Injun in country."

"That may be. But my friends are not ordinary men. They're smarter than any palefaces you ever saw."

"You got caught. Heap smart, huh," and the chieftain grunted in disgust.

"True enough. I did. But my pals didn't. They were smart enough not to get under the cliff where you shoved the rocks over."

Guttural grunts came from several of the Indians and quickly the chief demanded:

"Who you?"

"I don't know that it's any of your business."

"Me know. Great Bear know. Paleface army scout."

Instantly the bandit realized that the braves had decided he was connected with the soldiers of the Great Father in Washington.

And quickly was he to see his advantage.

"You're wrong there, Great Bear," he declared. "I told you you were making a mistake.

"I don't belong to the sojers any more'n you do.

"My chief's greater'n any sojers! He's got two battalions chasin' him now!"

This announcement produced a profound sensation among the braves and excitedly they jabbered.

But whatever his warriors were urging, their chief refused, again turning toward his prisoner:

"Paleface talk heap big. No fool Great Bear. Great Bear burn paleface at stake. Paleface frien's cum, Injun fight um, scalp um. Ugh! Ugh!"

And he sucked in his breath, making a gruesome sound.

But Comanche Tony refused to be frightened.

He knew that the Navajos were a peaceful tribe, as Indian tribes went, and he wondered what had sent them on the warpath, till suddenly he remembered the attack on the cabin Jesse had repulsed just before he had made his race for life from the Vigilantes, and it occurred to him that perhaps these were some of the same bucks seeking revenge.

If such should be the case, it would never do for him to disclose his identity.

Their words had told him that they had no fear of the cavalrymen, so that reference to them would stand him in no stead, and as minute after minute went by without any sound or sign of Jesse, his hope began to fail him.

Yet no trace was there in his face of what was passing in his mind.

Indeed, his wonderful coolness puzzled the redskins.

They had been accustomed to see white men cringe and tremble before them, and the words of Great Bear had doubtless been intended to strike terror to his heart.

But the fact that he was cool and indifferent made them think they had captured a man who knew no fear.

One more attempt they made, however, to break their captive's spirit.

After a consultation with two or three of his warriors, Great Bear spoke a few words in a low voice.

Immediately four bucks stepped from the circle about the fire, their scalping knives in their hands.

Came a sharp command from the chief.

As with one movement, the braves raised their arms and lowered them, sending the wicked blades straight at their helpless victim.

Shrilly the knives whistled as they sailed through the air.

Fascinated, Comanche Tony watched the flashes of steel as they sped toward him.

Could any strain have been more nerve-destroying?

Any one of the four blades, should it strike a vital spot, would kill him.

But all four were speeding toward him together, so nicely had the bucks gauged their throws.

Yet the bandit was too familiar with the nature of the redman not to know that instead of striking him where death would result, the blades would simply inflict painful flesh wounds, that the red devils might gloat in the sight of his blood and agony.

Every nerve in his body was atingle as he waited for the impact.

Of a sudden, however, he made a terrible discovery.

The knives were coming for his head.

Like a flash, it occurred to him that his eyes and ears were the targets.

A trice he contemplated the possibility of dodging them, for his head was not bound.

But the realization came to him that while he might avoid one of the whistling blades, he could not escape all four, and he decided to make no move.

Fortunate, indeed, was it that he did so.

Nearer and nearer came the knives.

Yet it seemed to Comanche Tony that years had elapsed since they had left the hands of the savages.

Of a sudden, he felt a cool draught against his cheeks, and then he could no longer see the awful blades.

Scarce able to believe his senses, he could feel no pain.

Then it dawned on him that the bucks had been testing his courage by aiming the scalping knives so they would just miss him, if he remained motionless—and he thanked his lucky stars that he had not tried to dodge them.

It was the very refinement of torture to which he had been subjected.

And well the redmen knew it.

To see the wicked blades coming for his head and not to move it when he was free to do so was an ordeal such as only one man in a million could survive.

But Comanche Tony was that one man.

Eagerly the bucks had watched him.

When they saw he had faced death unflinchingly, they grunted in grudging admiration.

"Paleface heap brave," exclaimed Great Bear. "Me know um now. Only one paleface got nerve like that. Him Jess Jame. You Jess Jame.

"Injun hate Jess Jame!

"You got die!"

The logic of the chief was crude. But it answered his purpose and again he repeated:

"Injun hate Jess Jame! Um got die! Burn um at stake!"

Turning to his warriors, Great Bear addressed them in the Navajos language earnestly.

And so engrossed were the bucks in listening to the words of their chief that they failed to see three faces rise cautiously above the edge of the cliff and gaze at the strange scene.

Jesse had found the trail and was soon to make his presence known.

When the bandit-chieftain and his men had reached the ledge whence the rocks had been hurled at them, he had ordered all but Wild Bill and Texas Jack to wait there while he and his chosen pals climbed to the top, fearing that the approach of all might be heard by the redmen.

Sweeping the top of the cliff with a hurried glance the world-famous desperado had seen, with joy, that he was in time to save the life of his chum.

Yet because he was aware that to act too soon would be as bad as to act too late, he dropped back behind the cliff again.

"Texas, go down and bring the others up," he whispered, putting his mouth close to his pal's ear. "Don't make a sound going down. But it won't matter coming back.

"I reckon the fun'll be on before you get here!

"But hurry. We'll have our hands full."

Hastily the bandit descended and again Jesse straightened up and peered over the edge of the precipice.

And what he saw made his face grow hard as he raised his six shooters.

Bearing burning brands in their hands, two bucks were advancing toward their victim tied to the stake, while two more carried armsful of dried twigs and leaves.

Less than ten feet were they from Comanche Tony.

Squatting about the campfire, prepared to enjoy the writhings of their captive, sat the rest of the Indians.

The distance from the edge of the cliff to the stake was too great for a pistol shot.

Yet Jesse realized that he must act at once were he to spare his chum awful suffering.

Bending toward Wild Bill, he breathed:

"We've got to rush 'em! Come on! Nail the devil's with the firebrands first!"

With a stillness marvelous in the rapidity of their actions, the two desperadoes gained the top of the precipice and dashed forward.

So engrossed were the bucks in watching their fellows that they had not seen the bandits.

"Give 'em a yell, then shoot!" whispered Jesse.

With a will the two outlaws gave the old guerrilla battle cry that had made Quantrell's men known and feared.

Panic-stricken, the redskins leaped to their feet.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack went the four six-shooters in the desperadoes' hands.

And with each bark of a pistol one of the Indians advancing toward Comanche Tony, pitched forward, a bullet hole in his heart.

But only for a minute did the braves lose their heads.

Thundering at his warriors, Great Bear commanded:

"Charge them! They are only two, we are twenty! We can push them off the precipice!"

Inspired by the words of their chief, which had been uttered in their native tongue, the braves drew their revolvers, opening fire on Jesse and Wild Bill as they advanced.

Never had the guerrilla battle cry sounded so sweet as it did to the ears of Comanche Tony as he stood, bound fast to the stake, watching the bucks approach with the firebrands and twigs with which to kindle a blaze about his feet.

But, when turning his head, he saw only Wild Bill and Jesse and a moment later beheld the warriors rally to the charge, he was filled with fear.

Two men, no matter how brave, would have little chance against the overwhelming numbers of the redskins.

Then he remembered that his six-shooters had not been taken from him and he bellowed:

"Jess! Jess! Cut me loose! I've got my guns! I can help you!"

"Keep pumping at the devils, Bill," commanded the world-famous desperado. "We've got to stand 'em off till the others get here!"

And, discharging his own shooting irons the while, Jesse ran to Comanche Tony.

But though the shots of the Indians had been wild at first, they were so close to the outlaws now that many a bullet ploughed through their flesh.

Seeing Jesse's purpose, Great Bear ordered the fire to be trained on him.

And so furiously did the bucks respond that the bandit-chieftain was forced to give ground.

Delirious were the yells of the braves as they saw this move.

But their rejoicing was short lived.

Aware, from the shots and shouts, that the fight was on, Texas and the rest of the bandits hastened up the trail, reaching the top just as their leader and Wild Bill were retreating toward the edge of the cliff.

"Hold your ground! We're coming!" yelled Frank.

Never were words more welcome than these as they rang in the ears of the sorely pressed outlaws.

And even as they heard them, a volley crashed from the guns of their fellows.

Surprised at the unlooked for re-enforcements, the bucks, however, held their own.

But only for a few minutes.

The fusilade of lead poured into them was too galling.

Though they outnumbered the bandits almost two to one, for death had thinned their ranks, Jesse and his men fired three times as rapidly.

Fast and furious raged the battle.

Then, of a sudden, Great Bear shouted a command.

With one accord, the bucks whirled and ran for the farther side of the cliff.

And, while some of his men pursued them, Jesse hurried to Comanche Tony and slashed the bonds with his bowie-knife.

[Chapter III.]

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CLIFF.

As the severed cords of rawhide dropped about his feet, Comanche Tony leaped from the tree to which he had been tied, swinging his arms like a flail.

"By my scalp! it feels good to be able to move 'em," he declared. "I begun to think I'd never git the chance to use 'em again. I ain't never been bound afore.

"You come jest in the nick of time, Jess. An' perhaps the old battle cry didn't sound good to my ears."

"I reckon it did," assented the bandit-chieftain.

All the while the two outlaws had been walking toward where the rest of the notorious band were standing, making an examination of their wounds.

"Any of the bucks' shots get you fellows bad?" asked the bandit-chieftain, anxiously, as he swept the little group with his eyes.

"Sam's got it the worst," returned Frank.

Muttering an imprecation, Jesse strode to where Dirks was standing.

"Where'd they hit you, Sam?" he asked.

"In the shoulder, the right one."

With tender fingers, the world-famous desperado cut away the blood-soaked clothes, while his men gathered about to learn the extent of their pal's injuries.

As the red, angry looking flesh was exposed to view, they uttered various exclamations.

One and all of them had seen enough wounds to know that this was serious. But to learn just how bad it was they awaited their leader's announcement.

"That sure is a nasty one," declared Jesse in a few moments. "The shoulder blade's shattered."

"It's too much for me to attempt to fix up. I'll just put a bandage round it and then you'll have to go to some town where there's a sawbones.

"He'll probably say you'll have to lose your arm."

The words evoked groans from the others as Sam wailed:

"And it's me best arm, too. What good'll I be with only one fin left? I wish the devils had a killed me."

"Nonsense, man! Buck up! You can shoot with your left hand and when you get into a fight there won't be so much of you to hit."

This lugubrious consolation did not reconcile Sam to the prospective loss of his good right arm, however, and all through the time his leader was dressing the injury he lamented his fate.

The wounds of the others, though painful, were not serious.

Bud, Bob and Frank had all been hit in their legs.

"I reckon you three," said Jesse, addressing the last named, "had better be the ones to take Sam to the Sawbones.

"He can't go alone, and if we should be obliged to make any hard rides, it wouldn't help the holes in your legs any."

Loudly the trio protested.

"But suppose we run into the soldiers?" queried Bob. "Four of us, with Sam worse than useless won't be able to do anything against 'em and we'll get pinched and run to the nearest fort. And you know what that means," he added significantly.

"For my part I'd rather stay with you-all and take my chances on my legs mortifying."

But the bandit-chieftain was not to be moved.

"I know it's a chance," he replied. "You've got to take it, though. Sam's got to be taken to a sawbones and somebody's got to go with him.

"If you do meet the cavalrymen, you can tell 'em you-all had a run in with a bunch of men.

"That'll make 'em think it's me you met and they'll swallow the bait.

"You can describe us exactly and give 'em a steer as to where you met us, only be sure you send them in the wrong direction.

"If you only work it right, you'll be able to put the soldiers on the wrong track and get yourselves clear.

"Why, it's a cinch."

"If it's so mighty easy, why don't you go with the boys and let me stay?" demanded Frank.

"Because they have my description too close," returned his brother. "It's dollars to a piece of hard tack they'd recognize me the minute they got their eyes on me.

"And then it would be all up with little Willie."

Jesse's argument was too cogent to admit of further dispute and, much against their will, the quartette of wounded outlaws accepted the decree of separation.

But it was not ordained that the plan should be put into effect.

The last of the wounds inflicted upon the bandits by the bullets of the redskins was being dressed when Comanche Tony came up to Jesse.

The old Indian fighter who, alone of all, had not been injured for the reason that he had been tied to the stake and was therefore prevented from taking any part in the furious encounter, had taken advantage of the pre-occupation of his pals to make a little reconnaisance on his own account.

Familiar with the habits of the redmen, he believed from the fact that he had seen no ponies in the canyon that the bucks were not far from some of the villages of their tribe.

Convinced of this, the bandit reasoned that the braves would return for re-enforcements with which to avenge the slaughter, and it was to learn if there were any campfires to be seen below, over the farther side of the top of the cliff, that he had left his companions.

To the east, as he peered through the bushes that lined the edge of the cliff, he caught sight of a flickering light that came and went like the spasmodic radiance of a fire-fly.

For a few minutes he had stood staring at the curious sight, in bewilderment.

Of a sudden, its meaning came to him.

When it did, he turned on his heel and made his way to his chief, eager to tell him of his discovery.

"What is it, Tony?" asked the world-famous desperado, as he caught sight of the excited countenance of his chum. "You look like a woman who's just heard a choice bit of scandal!

"What did you discover? I saw you sneaking into the brush."

The fact that his scouting expedition had been known to his master caused the old Indian fighter's face to fall, for he had thought that his going had been unnoticed.

"Poke fun at me if you want to," he retorted. "You may not git the chance to laugh again for some time."

The seriousness of their pal's tone hushed the hilarity on the outlaws' lips.

Yet before he had the opportunity to explain his words, Wild Bill cried:

"Look! Look! To the north! Quick!"

Believing their fellow had caught sight of the redskins coming back, the desperadoes wheeled like a flash, whipping out their shooting irons at the same time.

But it was not Indians they saw.

Hastily raising their eyes, when they found that it was no skulking figures that had called forth Wild Bill's excited exclamation, they were just in time to see a shower of seeming stars dropping through the air.

"It's a falling meteor!" ejaculated Bob Moore.

Believing it was, indeed, some of those phenomena so common on the plains, the outlaws gazed at the spectacular sight.

But the bandit-chieftain did not share their opinion.

"Dropping meteor nothing," he exclaimed. "Have you fellows all gone nutty that you can't recognize a falling rocket?

"You've seen enough of them, I should think."

"That's just what I was goin' to say," declared the bandit who had been the one to call the attention of his fellows. "When I first saw it, them white stars was a green ball."

"Then it's a signal," ejaculated Bud.

"My eye! but you're the wise guys," grunted Jesse.

"Of course it's a signal. You didn't think it was old Great Bear giving a fireworks display in our honour, did you?

"It's a signal, all right, all right, and it's from those cavalry fellows, too.

"Injuns don't go round carrying a stock of rockets in their belts.

"Now the thing to do is to find out what point of the compass they're signalling to."

With alacrity, the outlaws faced about, some gazing in one direction and some in another.

Not long were they obliged to wait to learn the answer to their leader's question, however.

Scarcely had the shower of sparks vanished than one of them sang out: "Here she comes, from the East, boys!"

But the words had no more than left his lips than another shouted:

"They're answering from the south, too!"

Rapidly Jesse and his men whirled, viewing first the rocket to the east and then to the south.

"Jumpin' snakes! They've got us surrounded!" gasped Texas Jack.

"You're wrong, pard," interposed Bob. "They haven't quite surrounded us yet. There's been no rocket from the West."

"And that's the side of the canyon where our horses are. Were sure in luck. I reckon it's a good thing we had this brush with the redskins. It's showed us where the sojers are," chimed in Homely Harry, not wishing to let the others get ahead of him.

"After them rockets, we kin ride dead West an' git away. If it hadn't been for the Injuns we might a rid right into some of the sojers."

"Come on! We'll go down and get the ponies while we have the chance," cried Frank, moving toward the edge of the cliff.

Ere he had taken more than a few strides in the carrying out of his purpose, Jesse's voice rang out:

"Hold on; don't be in such a hurry!

"If any of you show yourself on the edge of the cliff, I'll drop you in your tracks!"

In amazement those of the outlaws who had started after Frank, stopped and turned toward their leader, their surprise evident in their faces.

"What's the reason we can't get the horses?" snapped the elder of the James boys. "Speak lively! You're wasting valuable time!"

"It's better to waste time than our lives, isn't it?" returned his brother, with a deliberation that was exasperating to the highly wrought bandits.

"You ought to know better, Frank.

"I reckon Texas hit it right when he said we were surrounded!"

"Then why didn't the men in the West send up a rocket?" demanded the elder of the James boys.

"Because they're on our trail!"

This statement produced a profound sensation among the bandits and quickly they plied Jesse with questions as to his reasons for making it, that is, all but Frank, who, with a sneer started toward the edge of the cliff to find out for himself, though it was eloquent testimony for his secret regard for his brother's intuition that he dropped to his belly and approached the precipice with all the caution of which he was master.

Smiling as he saw this indication of alarm, Jesse addressed the others:

"It's an old trick among troopers, one that will be well for you to remember in the future, when they are on a search, for the squad that's hit the trail not to answer the rocket signals of the others.

"If the men they're hunting happen to see the rockets in every direction but one, they'll naturally make the move Homely suggested—ride away in the direction from which there was no signal—and fall right into the trap!

"I had a close call once—before I got wise. That's how I happen to know.

"How near the troopers on the west are to us, of course I can't tell.

"But they're not very far off. They've hit our trail in the canyon and—"

"They're right down at the foot of the cliff examining the dead campfires the Injuns left," interrupted Frank.

"You doped it right, Jess, I'll have to admit."

So engrossed had the others been in listening to the bandit-chieftain that they had not seen Frank as he returned from his reconnaisance, and the effect of his words, melodramatic as was the manner in which they fitted in, struck consternation to their hearts.

Enjoying the sensation he had caused, the elder of the James Boys continued:

"They've corralled our ponies, I could see one of the sojers leading 'em.

"The moon against the walls of the cliff makes it pretty near as light as day down at the bottom."

"We are in a mess," grunted Bob. "Injuns on one side of us and sojers on all the others. Looks as though this top of the cliff was going to be our burying ground."

"Between the two, the way things is, I reckon I'd ruther tackle the Injuns, eh, Jess?" interposed Comanche Tony, hurriedly, ere his chief could say another thing.

"When I was peerin' through the bush on tother side of this table of rocks, I see'd a campfire with a lot of Injuns cuttin' up round it.

"At fust, I couldn't git on to wot it meant, then I tumbled that it's a war dance.

"I'll bet my scalp, them bucks wot got away from us ull hipper over to the pow-wow to bring 'em back here, thinkin' we'll either be on top, as we be, or down in the canyon, as we was."

"But they'd see the rockets," protested Bud.

"Wot of it? They ain't got no Jess James with 'em to put 'em next to the signal trick an' they'll think there ain't no one to the West."

"Findin' we ain't on top, they'll start down into the canyon.

"Then, if we has any luck at all, the sojers ull jump 'em and they'll have a fine old set-to while we're doin' the sneak act."

"Good boy, Tony. You've got the right dope. Come on, boys! It's time for us to be lighting out," cried the world-famous desperado.

"Can you walk, Sam, or do you want us to make a sling for you?"

"I cal'late I can walk, for awhile anyhow."

"All right. If we stay here too long the soldiers may find the trail and climb up here.

"They heard the shooting, of course, and I reckon they'll be curious to find out what it was about.

"If they only do, and Tony has it right about the bucks going for re-enforcements, when they see the redskins coming from the brush, they'll start shooting. So we'll win out, which ever way it happens."

Quickly and silently the outlaws entered the fringe of bushes along the top at the opposite side of the cliff, descending by the trail which Wild Bill and Texas Jack had found while the bandit-chieftain had been talking.

With every sense alert, the outlaws proceeded, increasing their caution as they approached nearer and nearer to the bottom.

To their delight, they beheld a heavy patch of fir trees at the foot.

But just as they were within a rod of it, they were startled to hear a voice cry, faintly:

"Jess Jame! Jess Jame!"

In consternation, the desperadoes looked at one another.

Whether the calling of the name was a lure of the Indians, who, returning, had seen the men filing down the cliff and planned another ambush or what it betoken they could not tell.

"We're in for it now, for fair," growled Frank.

And as though to give emphasis to his words, a shout of triumph sounded from above them, and looking up, they beheld the forms of a score of cavalrymen silhouetted against the sky.

[Chapter IV.]

THE STRANGE BATTLE IN THE WITCH'S CAVE.

"Quick! Into the woods, boys!" snapped the world-famous desperado.

Instantly the bandits sprang to obey.

Fully ten feet away were the evergreens.

Desperately the men sought to gain their cover.

But less than half the distance had they traversed when from above there rang out in stentorian command:

"Fire!"

R-r-rip! crashed the sharp, staccato volley of carbines.

The aim of the cavalrymen was deadly.

With shrieks of pain, three of the outlaws threw up their hands and pitched forward.

Convulsively their bodies twitched for a few moments and then lay still, while their life blood oozed from wounds in their backs, saturating their clothes and making soggy the ground on which they lay.

With a terrible oath, the world-famous desperado hissed:

"Don't try to return the fire. Our pistols won't carry up the cliff. Into the woods! Leave the bodies!"

As they saw the desperadoes continue their flight without stopping to take their dead pals with them, a mighty cheer broke from the soldiers.

And, while it echoed, again the deep-lunged voice bellowed:

"Fire!"

Once more the rattle of the musketry rang out.

But this time no men fell.

The outlaws had gained the protection of the evergreens.

"Who's here?" demanded Jesse, a strange tremor in his voice. "Answer to your names as I call them."

So sudden had been their dash from the unprotected trail of the cliff to the woods that none of the outlaws knew who of their number had fallen victims to the terrible rain of lead that had been literally poured down on them from the edge of the precipice above.

And it was with bated breath that they heard their leader say:

"Comanche Tony!"

"O.K."

"Wild Bill?"

"Here."

"Texas Jack?"

"Here."

"Sam Dirks?"

Heavily the others drew in their breath as no one answered.

"Sam Dirks?" repeated Jesse, in hushed tone. "Poor Sam."

"Frank?"

"Here."

"Homely Harry?"

"O.K."

"Bud Noble?"

Again there was no answer.

"Bob Moore?"

Silence greeted this name also.

A moment later the bandits stood.

The calling of the roll in the sombre setting of the overhanging branches of the evergreen trees, through which, here and there, the moonlight filtered, amid the crash of the carbines and the whistle of the bullets, as they searched out the possible hiding place of the little band of fugitives, was dramatic in the extreme.

And the outlaws, rough and desperate men as they were, were cowed as they realized that the same death they had visited upon so many helpless mortals, had thinned their own ranks.

And the shock was all the greater for the reason that they had practised their nefarious pastime with such seeming immunity that they had come to look upon themselves as bearing charmed lives.

Not long, however, were they left to their thoughts.

Of a sudden, above the cheering of the troopers, above the rattle of the musketry, above the shrilling of the bullets rang the wild, blood-curdling war whoops of infuriated redskins.

"Quick, on your bellies under the trees!" whispered Jesse. "We'll let the devils charge the soldiers and may they battle till every one, Injun and trooper, falls dead!"

But just as the bandits were obeying their leader, there sounded from close beside them a plaintive:

"Jess Jame! Jess Jame! Don' lie down. Injun see um dead paleface, hunt um wood. Injun no care sojer, want Jess Jame.

"Come Dew Drop. Dew Drop show um place hide."

As she uttered the last words, the amazed desperadoes saw a slender creature, clad in what seemed an old wrapper, part the branches of the tree near which they stood.

An instant the world-famous desperado hesitated.

"If the bucks see the corpses and don't find us in the woods won't they search the place you're going to take us?" he asked, anxiously.

"No. Dew Drop take um cave Kaw-Kaw, Injun witch. Injun fraid go in Kaw-Kaw cave."

"Well, we won't be any worse off than we will here, that's sure. But why you want to help us I don't see. However, we'll take the chance. Come on, boys."

And, following the Indian maiden, the outlaws wound in and out among the evergreens till they reached a black hole, like a cavernous maw, in the cliff from which was exhaled a curiously intoxicating aroma.

"Paleface no make noise. Kaw-Kaw deaf, no hear. Lie down, no see. Dew Drop lie nex' Jess Jame so can talk."

Wondering what adventure was in store for them, the bandits quickly did as the Indian maiden told them, their chief choosing a place near the mouth of the cave with his chum at his side.

Scarcely had the world-famous desperado squatted down, with Dew Drop on his left and Comanche Tony on his right, than howls and yells of exultation reached them, telling them that the savages had discovered the three dead bodies at the foot of the cliff.

"By my scalp! we didn't git hyar any too soon, I reckon, jedgin' by them whoops," whispered the old Indian fighter.

But his master paid him no heed.

The action of the red-hued maiden in coming to him when he was in such sore need puzzled him, and he was racking his brain to remember whether or not he had ever seen her before.

Unable to place her, his mind once more reverted to the thought that her opportune appearance might have been but a part of a plot conceived by Great Bear to lure him and his men to the cave of the witch that they might be slaughtered without chance of escape.

If such were, in truth, the case, he and his companions were wasting precious moments.

Determined to end his suspense, Jesse clutched the maiden in a vice-like grip with his left hand, raising his bowie knife in his right, ready to plunge it into her heart, as he whispered in a tense, hoarse voice:

"Tell me why you brought me here! Was it at Great Bear's order? Tell the truth, as you hope to carry your scalp to the Happy Hunting Ground!"

Startled by the suddenness of the move and frightened by the stern face peering into hers, her eyes rivetted on the keen edged blade, Dew Drop blinked.

But a rough shake recalled her to the necessity of replying.

"No, no!" she gasped. "Great Bear no know Dew Drop left tepee. He kill um if knew."

"Then what made you?"

"Dew Drop want save um Jess Jame."

"Why?"

"Jess Jame save um Dew Drop."

"I save you?" repeated the bandit-chieftain, surprised in his turn. "When? What do you mean?"

"Kaw-Kaw say Great Spirit want Dew Drop be squaw um son Dog Face. Dew Drop no want. No like Dog Face. Dog Face bad Injun. Kaw-Kaw say must. Have heap pow-wow.

"Little Wolf come tepee say um hunting um see paleface burned Silverstock cabin, Jess Jame.

"Great Bear ask where.

"Little Wolf say canyon.

"Dog Face say get um Jess Jame scalp give squaw.

"Great Bear take Dog Face, Little Wolf twenty Injun leave um pow-wow go git Jess Jame.

"Dew Drop no know what happen."

"Great Bear five Injun come run tepee say Jess Jame on cliff, kill um Injun, kill um Dog Face.

"Kaw-Kaw say must scalp um Jess Jame or cuss um Great Bear.

"Great Bear make heap talk. Call um brave go back get Jess Jame.

"Dew Drop no wait hear more.

"Jess Jame save Dew Drop from Dog Face. Dew Drop save Jess Jame from Great Bear.

"Dew Drop git cliff see um paleface come down. Dew Drop call. Sojer shoot.

"Dew Drop 'fraid Jess Jame get um lead. When see no dead, hear um Great Bear.

"Dew Drop think where hide.

"Dew Drop think um cave Kaw-Kaw.

"Jess Jame in Kaw-Kaw cave."

Like a torrent the Indian maiden poured forth her story and as the world-famous desperado learned the strange reason for her friendship, he exclaimed:

"Well, I'll be jiggered! So my men killed Dog Face, eh? I guess we can trust you, if that's the way things are.

"I'm sure mighty glad we put an end to your prospective husband."

"But she said Kaw-Kaw was in the cave when we got here, and just now she tells us she's at the pow-wow," breathed Comanche Tony, who had heard the remarkable tale.

"How about that?" demanded Jess sharply, his suspicions rekindled by the seeming discrepancy in Dew Drop's statement.

"Kaw-Kaw in um cave," returned the maiden with positiveness. "When um hear Great Bear say go back git um Jess Jame, Kaw-Kaw say go um cave get um cuss ready case Great Bear no get um Jess Jame."

"So that smell's the old hag's curses, a brewin', eh?" chuckled Tony. "I'm glad they're for Great Bear and his bucks and not me, if they're that strong."

But further speech was stopped by the sudden appearance of three tall forms, looming in the entrance of the cave.

Crouching low, the bandit-chieftain watched them, stealthily drawing his shooting-irons.

Yet before he could extract them from his holsters, he felt Dew Drop's hand on his arm, restrainingly.

Turning toward her, wondering what she meant, he saw her shake her head vigorously, at the same time pressing upon his arm.

"Evidently doesn't want me to shoot," reasoned Jesse. "I reckon she knows more about what's best in this witch-den than I do."

And he silently dropped his guns back into their holsters.

The old Indian fighter had been a spectator of the pantomime and as he saw his chief relinquish his weapons, he did likewise.

All this had taken but a few seconds, and even while it was transpiring, one of the bucks was jabbering excitedly.

What he was saying, the bandits did not know, for the redmen spoke in their own language.

Yet from the jumble of guttural sounds, they occasionally distinguished the words "Jess Jame" and "Kaw-Kaw."

But if they could not understand what was said they could see what was happening.

The jabberings of the excited bucks had been carried on in loud tones.

Scarcely had they begun than the outlaws beheld a bent and bowed figure hobble into the light at the mouth of the cave, leaning on a crooked staff.

At her approach, the warriors drew back.

In shrill tones the figure, whom they realized must be the witch, Kaw-Kaw, harangued them, waving her staff as her excitement got the better of her.

Soon she paused and the bucks replied.

Again the piping voice answered.

And, as she heard the words, Jesse could feel Dew Drop tremble, so close was she to him.

Deciding because of this that whatever the gibberish meant it spelled danger for himself and his men, the world-famous desperado again whipped his hands to his pistol holsters.

And this time there was no objection from the Indian maiden by his side.

Yet before he could draw them, Kaw-Kaw hobbled from the cave, joining the three braves and vanished from sight with them.

As they disappeared, Dew Drop breathed a sigh of intense relief.

Ere Jesse could utter the question that was on his lips, the red-skinned maiden whispered:

"Quick! Quick! Get um paleface. Dew Drop take um back Kaw-Kaw cave while um 'way."

Springing to her feet, the maid seized the hand of the bandit-chieftain and dragged him back into the pall of blackness that enveloped the witch's den.

Seeing their leader rise, his pals had followed suit, even before he commanded in a low voice:

"Get up, boys. Take hold of one another. Follow me quickly!"

Had Kaw-Kaw returned to her den just then, she would have been filled with amazement at the file of men, who threaded their way through the maze of pots, tripods and implements dear to the heart of the sorceress, led by the lithe, slim maiden.

But her amazement would have turned to alarm had she seen them enter a second cave, which led from the first, the existence of which she thought she herself alone knew.

So low was the opening into the inner den that the bandits were forced to drop to their hands and knees.

"This is a fool's stunt, getting in farther instead of—" began Frank.

But his words were frozen in his mouth by a terrible, hair-raising growl that sounded from the recesses of the cave.

"No 'fraid, no 'fraid!" gasped Dew Drop hurriedly. "Um Wa-Wa, Kaw-Kaw bear. Um no hurt."

"Sure not, his growl doesn't sound fierce, I don't think!" ejaculated Wild Bill.

But the Indian maiden, laughing softly, quickly allayed their fears by adding:

"Wa-Wa no got claw, no got teeth.'"

"Well, the growl's the real thing, all right, all right," exclaimed Jesse. "The old hag hasn't removed his hug, too, has she?"

"No-o," replied the maiden, doubtfully. "But Dew Drop know Wa-Wa. Um play, Dew Drop an' Wa-Wa.

"Dew Drop come cave any day. Kaw-Kaw deaf no hear.

"Wa-Wa know Dew Drop. No hurt."

"That may be all right for you," snarled Frank, "but Wa-Wa may not take so kindly to our coming."

The series of growls, growing in intensity and volume with each successive outburst, that came from the monster, lent a force to the outlaw's words that even the Indian maiden could not disregard.

"Wa-Wa!" she called, soothingly, adding something in her native tongue.

But the pet of the witch, Kaw-Kaw, as though he recognized among the strangers, whose presence he scented, the man who had grievously wronged his mistress by killing her son, refused to be pacified.

Each moment, his growls announced that he was getting nearer and nearer to the bandits.

Of a sudden, two little balls of seeming phosphorous glowered at them, as the brute came from behind a boulder.

"You can stand there like dummies, if you want to," snapped the elder of the James boys. "I'm going to shoot him!"

"No! No! No shoot!" protested Dew Drop, in alarm.

"Why not?"

"Kaw-Kaw smell powder when um came back. Know some one in um cave. Make heap cuss. Fin' um paleface. Call um Injun. Devil to pay!"

"I reckon the girl's right, Frank," declared his brother, smiling at the words of his saviour. "It wouldn't take long for the old hag to notice the odour of the saltpetre and when she called the bucks it would be all over but the shouting.

"And I've no intention of adorning an Indian triumph."

"All right," grudgingly acquiesced the elder of the James boys. "I won't shoot, but something's got to be done.

"I don't propose to stay in here with a bear walking round loose, if it hasn't any teeth or claws."

This announcement expressed the feelings of the rest of the bandits, yet what to do, they did not know.

And as they stood, in helpless perplexity, the brute itself solved their dilemma.

As its wicked little eyes beheld the figures of the intruders in its retreat, the monster reared on its hind legs, and with a roar, deafening because of the narrow confines of the cave, charged at them, laying about it viciously with its herculean paws.

In panic, the outlaws fled before it.

But the rock side of the den checked them.

Came a mighty swish and Comanche Tony fell, dropped by the clawless paws of the monster.

And, in a trice, the bear stood over its unconscious victim, snarling ominously.

The peril of their pal broke the spell of terror in which the outlaws stood.

"Stab the brute! Tackle him, boys!" snapped Jesse, leaping toward the monster as he spoke.

Instantly his comrades obeyed.

Drawing their keen-edged bowie-knives, they buried them to the hilts in any part of the bear's body they could reach.

Stung by the sharp pains, the monster reared on its hind legs again, lashing about viciously with its paws, emitting savage growls, awful in their fury.

But its raising up was the beast's doom.

Crouching low, dodging the terrible lunges as a prize-fighter dodges the blows of his adversary in the ring, the world-famous desperado watched his chance.

Suddenly he saw the monster's breast unprotected.

With a lightning movement, the bandit-chieftain leaped forward.

In his right hand he clasped his bowie-knife.

His arm, bent close to his body, shot out.

And the force of his spring drove the keen-egded blade to the hilt, straight through the bear's heart.

But so great was the power of resistance of the monster that, despite the steel in its most vital organ, it seized Jesse in a mighty embrace, holding him helpless as it staggered.

"T-trip it!" gasped the leader of the outlaws frantically, "I—I've st-tabbed it."

Again his men sprang forward.

Yet before they could carry out their master's instructions, the bear fell, its embrace unbroken.

Not long did it take the bandits to extricate their chief from his uncomfortable position.

But as they raised him to his feet, they heard the sound of hoarse, excited voices in the outer cave.

"The bucks have come back!" hissed Texas Jack.

"No, no Injun! Um paleface sojers!" gasped Dew Drop in consternation. "No Injun come Kaw-Kaw cave."

[Chapter V.]

A DESPERATE CHARGE.

In dismay, the bandits gazed at one another, as they heard the portentous words of the Indian maiden.

And in a moment more their own ears confirmed their truth.

No mistaking the identity of the men in the outer cave was there, as a sharp command, in plain English, rang out:

"Search every nook and cranny in the den, men. It's just the place for Jesse James and his pack of cutthroats to hide."

"That pet name'll cost the life of many a soldier, young fellow, if I ever get out of here!" hissed Comanche Tony in a low, harsh voice.

But his pals were too taken up with the peril of their position to make any comment on the blood-thirsty announcement.

No need was there to tell them it was one thing to have the Indians search the cave and quite another to have the cavalrymen.

The superstitious reverence and fear of the bent and bowed sorceress would not sway the troopers or cause them to consider the intrusion of the abode of the witch a sacrilege.

Rather would their contempt for the customs and beliefs of the redmen incite them to unusual effort.

Should they chance to espy the hole leading into the second cave, every one of the six men knew that they would lose no time in exploring it.

And it was to what they should do, in such event, that each man devoted his thoughts.

"Can't we block up the hole?" hazarded Texas Jack, grasping at the most obvious expedient.

"No," returned Dew Drop. "Kaw-Kaw see, Kaw-Kaw get wise. Hole always open for Wa-Wa.

"Dew Drop no see why Kaw-Kaw let sojers come um cave."

"Probably they didn't ask her permission," returned the bandit-chieftain.

But the explanation did not satisfy the Indian maiden.

From her earliest memory, she had been taught reverence for the aged sorceress and she knew the fear her fellow-tribesmen held of the terrible curse that would be visited upon any Indian who dared penetrate the recesses of the cave.

Indeed, not unless she had been invited to enter, as an honour that would influence her to accept Dog Face as her brave, would she ever have had the temerity to enter and as she thought of being discovered in the "holy of holies" with the men she was trying to save, she trembled like a leaf, silently rocking too and fro as she wrung her hands in an agony of despair.

Plainly the outlaws heard the troopers draw nearer and nearer as they proceeded with their fruitless hunt.

"I reckon there's nothing for it but to stab the first trooper who pokes his head through the opening," whispered the world-famous desperado.

"I'll take that job for mine. The rest of you line up about me. As soon as I've knifed the first, some of you pull him out of the way and the others be ready for the next.

"If we can kill 'em without an outcry, we may be able to get em all."

The fiendish plan of slaying one man after another as fast as they appeared showed clearly how desperate Jesse believed their position to be.

It proved that in order to save his own life he had no hesitancy in killing any number of men.

And, as they heard the shocking proposition, even his pals, steeped in the gore of innocent men as their hands were, recoiled at the task imposed on them.

Yet they dared not disobey and silently took their places, kneeling, at the entrance to the cave, opposite their inhuman chief who waited, with bowie-knife upraised to plunge it into the heart of the first soldier that appeared.

But before the awful scheme could be put to the test, the old witch herself took a hand in the proceedings.

As the bandits kneeled, the beats of their hearts alone breaking the silence of the den in which they were, their ears strained for the first sound that should announce the discovery of the hole, they suddenly heard a shrill snarl in good English:

"Dogs of palefaces! What are you doing in my cave? How dare you profane the temple of a Navajo medicine? Curses on your palefaced heads! May you perish on the plains, riddled with wounds, mad for water! May the coyotes feed on your carcasses! May no grave hold your bones and may they be scattered to the winds! Curse you! Curse you! Curse you!"

So furious, so terrible was the wrath of the aged sorceress that the troopers stopped in their search, staring at the wizened, bent figure, abashed.

Not slow was the shrewd old hag to note the impression her bitter invective had made upon the cavalrymen and, without delay, she followed it up.

"If the dogs of palefaces have wives, may they rot with child; if they have sweethearts, may they play with them and jilt them; if they have children, may they grow up deformed and idiotic! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

And she croaked in diabolical glee.

Of a sudden her manner changed.

"What do the palefaces want, more curses? Haven't they had enough?" she shrieked, angered that, though the soldiers trembled beneath her imprecations, they made no move to leave the cave.

"May—"

But before another word could leave her lips, the lieutenant commanding the troopers, having recovered from the first shock of surprise, bellowed:

"Seize her! Bind her! Gag the old vixen!"

Eagerly the cavalrymen sprang forward, their faces bespeaking with what relish they would obey the commands.

Yet before they could lay hands on her, Kaw-Kaw began to back away, swinging her crooked staff in front of her to hold off the troopers, while she screamed in the language of her tribe.

"Kaw-Kaw call um Great Bear an' um braves," gasped Dew Drop, excitedly, close to Jesse's ear. "Paleface dogs must fight for coming Kaw-Kaw cave."

So unexpected and so startling had been the intervention of the old witch that Jesse forgot his own peril in his interest to learn the effect of the awful curses on the soldiers.

But the words of the Indian maiden recalled him to himself.

Whoops and yells resounded in the outer cave in answer to Kaw-Kaw's appeal to her tribesmen.

Suddenly a flare of light shone through the hole leading into the cavern in which the outlaws were.

"The bucks have thrown in lighted faggots," grunted Comanche Tony. "There'll be suthin' doin', now."

Ere he had more than spoken, the barks of pistols rang out, like the explosion of gigantic fire-crackers.

The deeper toned army revolvers answered.

In a trice the din was deafening.

"Here's our chance!" declared the world-famous desperado. "We'll crawl into the other cave and attack the troopers from the rear.

"Judging by their guns, there are only a dozen or so.

"Our charge'll rattle 'em so we can rush through 'em and get outside.

"The Indians won't stop us.

"When we get clear, we'll strike for the place the bucks are grazing their ponies, Dew Drop'll tell us where it is."

"Jus' other side trees, straight from cave," responded the red-skinned maiden.

"Good. All ready, boys! I'll go first. Don't begin shooting till we're all in the other cave.

"Dew Drop, you stay here."

Desperate was the scheme.

If the braves or troopers recognized Jesse, they might forget their fight in the desire to capture their common enemy.

And then the outlaws' shrift would be short.

But no word of protest did the others offer.

In deciding upon the sortie, the bandit-chieftain had counted on the cavalrymen mistaking him and his pals for Indians while he hoped the savages would think them troopers.

Furiously was the battle raging as Jesse finished the announcement of his plans.

From the yells and shouts, he decided that the soldiers were driving back the redskins.

And, with hope high, he began to crawl through the hole onto the field of strife.

Rapidly his five pals followed.

As they gained the larger cave, they saw that the troopers had, indeed, forced the braves back.

"Don't shoot till we get on top of 'em," breathed Jesse. "I'll give the word. Ready! Charge!"

Like deers the outlaws sped toward the cavalrymen, their presence unsuspected.

But as they got within twenty feet of them, a voice suddenly shrilled:

"There he is! There's Jesse James!"

In their reckoning, the desperadoes had forgotten the old witch whose son they had killed.

The cause of the fight between soldiers and Indians, Kaw-Kaw, had ducked into a niche out of range of the bullets, from which she watched the conflict.

And as the bandits rushed past, she recognized them.

Yet before her warning had rung out, the bandit-chieftain thundered:

"Fire! Rake 'em, boys! Drop 'em!"

But while his men poured their murderous fire into the troopers, Jesse turned and sent a shot crashing into the brain of the old hag and she toppled from her hiding place, a blood-curdling shriek coming from her lips as she fell.

Amazed at the warning which was followed on the instant by the fusilade from behind, the cavalrymen whirled to face their foes from the new quarter.

But the rain of lead from the outlaws' guns was terrible.

One after another, the troopers fell, mowed down like grass before the scythe.

"We've cleaned 'em out! Come on! Charge the Injuns! We've got to shoot our way through!" bellowed the world-famous desperado.

Howling, yelling, leaping like Dervishes, the six desperadoes dashed from the mouth of the cave.

An instant the braves stood and faced them.

But the fire from the outlaws' pistols was too galling and they gave way.

Intoxicated by the smell of powder, wild with the sight of carnage on all sides of him, Jesse led his men through the evergreens, coming upon the Indians' ponies where Dew Drop had said they were.

Quickly the desperadoes cut out six, leaped on their backs and dashed southward.

Behind them, having recovered their nerve, swarmed every buck who could find a mount, rending the air with fiendish whoops of fury and chagrin.

"We can get away from them, all right," declared the world-famous desperado. "What worries me is where the troopers are who signalled from the south."

And scarcely had the words left his lips before he caught sight of a body of horsemen rising from a ravine less than a quarter of a mile in front of him.

[Chapter VI.]

THE RACE FOR LIFE.

In the light from the moon, which bathed the brush-grown plain and towering cliff in a flood of silver sheen, the figures of the troopers stood out clearly.

By common consent, without waiting for the command, the men with the world-famous desperado checked their ponies and watched the cavalrymen rise from the ravine.

Whether or not, the soldiers had caught sight of them they did not know. But shouts of delirious glee from behind told them that the pursuing Indians had discovered the troopers.

Of a verity, the little band of desperadoes were between two fires.

Apparently the liberty they had achieved by such ruthless slaughter of soldiers and redmen in the cave of the old witch was to count for naught.

And as this thought came to them, the companions of the notorious outlaw groaned inwardly.

Not so the notorious Jesse, however.

Save for the deepening of the lines about his mouth and the compression of his lips, he sat erect and rigid.

But his mind was working as it never had worked before.

Through many a desperate situation had he passed unscathed. Yet none of the ruses which had stood him in such good stead on those occasions could he use in his present predicament.

The brilliancy of the moonlight, the presence of foes in front and back, the treeless waste all about him prevented.

Should he make any move, it would be clearly discernable to troopers and Indians alike.

And, aware of his seeming helplessness, the bucks were already yelling in anticipation of his capture.

Their attention attracted by the howls of the savages, the cavalrymen quickly discovered the group of horsemen in the bracken.

Hoarse commands, the sounds of which alone reached the bandits, were spoken and, in a twinkling, those of the troopers who had mounted the level from the ravine, set their horses toward them.

Turning his head, the world-famous desperado looked toward the Indians.

All of half a mile away were they, though each minute lessened the distance.

"Its a chance, but we've got to take it," snapped Jesse, thinking aloud. "Quick, boys! Whirl your ponies. We'll ride back a way then make a dash for the ravine! Come on!"

Even as the words fell from their leader's lips, his men had turned their mounts and, as he gave the word, buried the rowels of their spurs in the flanks of the fleet footed Indian ponies.

Startled by the unwonted pain, the animals leaped away like stones from catapults.

The race for life was on.

Scarcely a minute had it been from the time the outlaws had caught sight of the cavalrymen till they were in full flight. Yet to them each second their chief had sat inactive had seemed an hour.

In amazement, the savages beheld the men they had been pursuing rush toward them.

"Kaw-Kaw's bewitched them! They've lost their minds! Her curses live to destroy the men who killed her!" shouted Great Bear in his native tongue, transported with joy. "At them! At them! Jesse James is the Navajos' prey. The paleface dogs must not get him first!"

Goaded to frenzy by the words of their chief, the bucks fell to lashing their ponies, riding like fiends in their effort to prevent the troopers from snatching their quarry from their very grasp.

But the cavalrymen viewed the course of the desperately pressed little band with different feelings.

"Jesse's in the bunch, all right. That move shows it," growled one of them, the stars and chevrons on whose uniform proclaimed him a captain. "No one but that murdering daredevil would have chosen to ride back toward that pack of howling savages rather than toward us.

"Curse the luck! Why couldn't we have struck the ravine half a mile farther east? Then we'd been right on top of him and could have shot him down."

"But the bucks 'll drop him," asserted a lieutenant who rode at his side. "So long as he's shot, I don't see what difference it makes whether we get him or they."

"But they won't get him!" bellowed the captain, his disappointment at losing his chance to capture the most famous desperado the world has ever known and anger at the ill-disguised rebuke of his subordinate getting the better of him.

"Won't get him?" repeated the lieutenant, as though he seemed to doubt his ears.

"Yes, won't get him!" returned the man in command of the troops. "You've got a lot to learn, young man, about hunting bad-men.

"But if you never learn any thing else, remember this—Indians, when they're howling and whooping and all excited, are the worst shots in the world.

"Jesse James knows it. And he'd rather take the chance of riding by the whole pack of 'em than to give the few of us a shot at him."

Such, indeed, was the reason that the world-famous desperado had chosen the course he did. Yet his decision had been strengthened by the further knowledge that the redmen feared him and his marvelous prowess with his shooting-irons.

All the while, the little group of outlaws and the two bodies of men bent on their death or capture, were drawing closer together.

Never was there stranger chase.

In full view of one another, each party was riding like mad to gain its own end.

Yet never a shot was fired.

The distance that separated them was too great.

Nearer and nearer drew the bandits and the Indians and farther and farther were the cavalrymen getting from the ravine.

Less than two hundred yards separated the former.

With eyes now in front, now turned behind, Jesse watched the approach of his enemies.

"Damme! I believe they're mad! Why don't they open fire?" snarled the captain.

To which of the two groups the words referred, the lieutenant did not know and his recent, caustic reprimand prevented him from asking.

His mind, however, was instantly diverted by his superior.

"Ha! What's that mean?" cried the latter, then added instantly "Jesse's turning. I see. He's making for the ravine. I've been fooled!"

Almost choking with rage at the thought that he had allowed himself to be out-generaled by the notorious cutthroat, the captain rose in his stirrups, jerked his sabre from its scabbard and, pointing toward the ravine, turned to his troopers, bellowing:

"Fours oblique and ride like Hell!"

Chuckling inwardly at the choler of their commander, the cavalrymen executed the orders.

As Jesse and his pals heard the frantic command, they yelled in defiance, waving mocking goodbyes at the discomfited troopers as, leaning forward along the necks of their ponies, they raced past the head of the column of cavalrymen.

Better than he had dared hope had the bandit-chieftain's ruse worked.

But the end of the race for life was not yet.

Though the world-famous desperado had held his course straight toward the whooping Indians, his mind and eyes had been almost entirely upon the troopers.

When he had caught sight of the first troopers rising from the ravine and realized the desperateness of the position of himself and his companions, with that instinct which had made him so valuable an asset to the old guerilla chieftain, Quantrell, in the days of the Civil War, he had realized that the one chance of escape open, lay in reaching the ravine.

Yet his eyes, calculating the distance nicely, told him that, should he make a dash for it, the troopers could head him off by riding along the edge of the gorge.

A moment he had been puzzled as to what to do. Then, in a flash, it had come to him that by retracing his course and riding straight at the howling savages he might be able to entice the soldiers to follow him, abandoning their strategic advantages of the position along the ravine.

With elation, he had seen the troopers fall into his snare.

This accomplished, he had kept watch of their pursuit, waiting for the instant when they should be so far away from the ravine that he could beat them to it.

At last the time came.

With a whispered command, he had bidden his pals wheel and rush for the gorge.

Skilled horsemen all, they had accomplished the turn which was so sudden that it would have unseated less expert riders.

But so absorbed were they in watching the troopers that they had not noticed five bucks who had broken away from their fellows and were bearing down upon them with the speed of whirlwinds.

Riding with marvelous ease and grace, the redmen closed upon them with incredible rapidity.

No whoop or yell did they utter.

Their success in getting near enough to the men who had killed their brother warriors and outraged their race by shooting their medicine woman lay in their silence.

Breathlessly the rest of the braves watched them.

As the echoes of the outlaws' derisive shouts, when they dashed past the head of the cavalry, died away, one of the bucks straightened and raised his arm.

Bang! went the pistol in his hand.

The report of the gun was the first intimation Jesse and his pals had of the proximity of the braves.

And as the bullet whistled over their heads, they whirled on the backs of their ponies to see who it was that had been able to get within shooting distance of them, undiscovered.

"Drop em! Drop 'em!" roared the world-famous desperado, adding a terrible oath.

Crash! went the dozen six shooters.

The six outlaws were firing with a gun in each hand.

But only one Indian toppled from his pony.

"Again!" bellowed Jesse. "Get 'em this time!"

Once more the twelve pistols barked.

And once more only one brave fell.

"What's the matter with you?" snarled the notorious outlaw. "If we don't get them, they'll get us!"

But the task imposed on the bandits was no easy one.

Keeping their seats on the backs of their madly galloping mounts only by the grips of their knees, the desperadoes were obliged to shoot with their bodies twisted round to face behind them.

And small wonder was it that their aim was bad.

But on the three remaining redskins rushed, firing frantically and behind them thundered the rest of the savages and the troopers, yelling encouragement.

No chance was there for the little band to throw off the pursuit when they reached the ravine unless the trio of braves was killed.

Cursing furiously as he saw the second volley had accomplished no more than the first, Jesse forebore to call for another.

Well he knew that it had been the bullets from the gun in his right hand that had toppled the two Indians from the horses and he made up his mind that upon him devolved the killing of the others.

With the marvelous rapidity that had won him his reputation, he snapped his trusty "Colts" in quick succession.

Two more of the savages pitched from their ponies.

Again his guns spoke.

Yet before he could see the result of his last attempt to drop the lone buck, Homely Harry shrieked:

"Watch out, boys! We're right on to the ravine!"

The warning came too late.

Even as the cry rang out, the bandits felt their ponies sink beneath them as the animals rushed over the edge of the gorge.

Never was such horsemanship as Jesse and his pals displayed.

To the average man, the plunge taken at the whirl-wind speed of the ponies would have meant death.

Turning the instant their pal's voice had sounded, the bandits steadied themselves by bracing their hands, still holding their revolvers, against the necks of their mounts, leaning back to offset the shock when the ponies should strike the brush-covered bottom of the ravine that yawned beneath them.

To any one in the gorge, they would have seemed like huge, ungainly birds sailing through the air.

For so terrific was the pace at which the animals had approached the ravine that their momentum carried them far out over the brush ere they began to drop.

"Be ready to slide when the pintos strikes!" yelled Comanche Tony, quickly realizing the danger. "If you tries to set your horses it will mean your death!"

Quickly his pals relaxed their muscles.

And well was it that the old Indian fighter had given the advice.

With feet braced stiff, the ponies struck the ground.

There was a snapping and cracking and the poor beasts sank down, their legs broken by the awful force of the impact.

Yet even as they fell, the outlaws, prepared by the warning of Comanche Tony, shot over their heads, landing in the bushes unscathed save for scratches and the jolting they received as they struck.

And as they picked themselves up, they heard the captain of the troopers roar:

"Find the horses! Jesse and the bunch'll be near 'em. No man could take that plunge and come out whole."

"That's where your wrong, old top," grinned the world-world famous desperado. "Quick boys! drop on your hands and knees! We'll work up the ravine a couple of rods from the ponies and then strike for the side from which they jumped. Careful, now, we won the race. But if the troopers or Injuns get their peepers on one of us, its death to the whole bunch!"

[Chapter VII.]

DEW DROP AGAIN TO THE RESCUE.

Hurriedly the outlaws dropped to all fours and resumed their hazardous attempt at escape.

The bushes that grew in the ravine, fortunately for them, were of sufficient height to conceal their bodies as they advanced. Yet mere concealment, they knew, was not sufficient to insure their safety.

Should the keen eyes of soldiers or savages detect a suspicious movement among the brushwood, the hue and cry would instantly be raised.

And, aware of this full well, the six sorely pressed bandits crawled with infinite stealth.

So near were the troopers that the creaking of their saddle leathers was audible, followed almost instantly by the snapping and cracking of twigs and bushes as the horses picked their way gingerly down the steep side of the ravine.

Eagerly the eyes of the cavalrymen searched the bottom of the gorge, bent on discovering the forms of the horses, as their captain had commanded.

So thick was the tangle of brushwood, however, that it was several minutes after the desperadoes had heard them crashing into the ravine ere their hearts were set a flutter by excited cries, breaking from several mouths at the same time:

"There they are! On the farther side!"

The announcement of the discovery was received with wild cheers.

"Where? Which direction?" yelled those of the troopers whose sight was unable to discern the dark forms of the ponies writhing in their suffering.

"To the East! To the East!" answered the ones who saw them. "Come on! Come on! We've got 'em."

Wild with the excitement of the soldiers at the prospect of capturing the desperate cutthroats who had defied all efforts of an army of man-hunters either to kill or to take them into custody, so successfully.

Yet scarce had the cries of the exuberant troopers rung out than their commander bellowed:

"Give 'em a volley before you ride at 'em. They're tricky devils!"

In the exigencies of the moment all thought of military discipline was forgotten.

The captain knew his men and the men knew their captain. Many a punitive expedition had they ridden on before, against outlaws and renegade redskins alike and no need was there to waste time in giving book-rule commands.

No sooner had the words of caution left the officer's lips than the troopers threw their carbines to their shoulders, sighted them on the dark, struggling forms in the brushwood and pulled the triggers.

With deafening roar the guns spoke.

Straight and true sped the bullets.

But instead of stopping the heart beats of any of the James gang they simply put an end to the miseries of the maimed ponies.

As the report of the broadside rang out over the plains, the cavalrymen urged their mounts forward, eager to be in at the death.

In the stress of their emotions, they had not noticed that no shots had been fired at them.

Had they been more calm, this fact alone would have told them the outlaws were not by the ponies.

And it was not till they had reached the bodies of the beasts, dismounted and searched the nearby bushes that they found that Jesse and his band had again outwitted them.

But when the fact dawned on them, loud and forceful were their curses.

"Beat up and down the gorge!" shouted the lieutenant, believing that the mistake of his superior gave him a license to issue commands.

"Shut up, you dunderhead!" roared the captain, his face livid with rage. "I was chasing men when you were in swaddling clothes. I know how they act.

"The bandits have crossed the ravine and struck into the brush beyond! After them!"

In a wild scramble, the troopers mounted the farther side of the ravine, gained the edge and were soon lost to view.

And as the world-famous desperado, peering cautiously from the brushwood, saw they had vanished, he heaved a mighty sigh of relief.

Terrible, indeed, had been the suspense of the six men crawling on hands and knees under cover of the bushes.

On their ears alone had they been obliged to rely to tell them what was transpiring about them, for they dared not raise their heads to look, lest the eyes of the troopers decry them.

When they had heard the crash of the volley, Jesse had turned toward the very bank from which it was fired.

And as the soldiers descended to learn the result of their shots, the outlaws had crept up the steep incline.

Of necessity, their progress was slow and not more than half way to the top were they when the words of the captain, expressing his belief that his quarry was on the farther plain, had reached them.

Still crawling, the bandit-chieftain had waited till he thought sufficient time had elapsed for all to have gained the plains before he ventured to look to make sure.

And when he found that the cavalrymen had, indeed, disappeared over the opposite bank, he quickly apprised his companions.

"I'll bet my hair's turned white," ejaculated Wild Bill. "I ain't never been through no such tryout before an' I don't want to agin."

"Don't crow too soon," admonished Comanche Tony. "We ain't clear yet—by a long shot."

"Right you are, pard," declared Jesse, "And it doesn't look as though we'd get clear," he added. "Duck, boys, duck! Here comes the Injuns! Skirt the edge of the bank!"

Luckily for themselves, none of the outlaws had risen from the brushwood so that their chief's exhortation was unnecessary and, with agility born of desperation, they struck westward along the crest of the gorge.

When they had seen the troopers change their direction and rush madly after the fleeing bandits, the savages had checked their pursuit, all but the five whom Jesse had sent to the Happy Hunting Ground.

No love did they bear for the soldiers and they were not eager to mingle with them, even though they were engaged in the chase of a common foe.

Hurriedly Great Bear had passed the word for silence and, sitting on their ponies like statues, they had advanced at a walk.

Not even the roar of the carbines had induced the chieftain to increase the pace.

But when he saw the forms of the cavalrymen mounting the farther edge of the ravine, he became interested.

"Jess Jame fool um paleface!" he grunted, his eyes twinkling with delight. "Sojers no get Jess. Injun got chance."

If the bandits had, indeed, taken to the plains across the gorge, Great Bear knew that he and his braves were as likely to find them as the troopers. But because he was wise in his generation, the wily old warrior again enjoined his braves to silence that they might surprise the little band had they doubled on their tracks as he more than half suspected.

The shoeless hoofs of their ponies making scarcely no sound because of the thunderous charge of the cavalry on the farther plains, the redskins bore down on the ravine.

But, as the reader knows, Jesse had seen them and, with his pals, was scurrying from their path.

The Indians slowed up as they reached the edge of the ravine, then descended, crossed, mounted the other side, and swept on in the trail of the soldiers.

Pausing as he heard the bucks plunge into the gorge, Jesse parted the bushes at his side, peering at the dark, tossing forms.

Cautiously his pals followed his example.

Never had men seemed to move so slowly as did the Indians in crossing the gulch.

But at last only a few stragglers had not mounted to the plains.

"Quick, boys! Crawl to the top of the bank, only keep under cover!" whispered the world-famous desperado.

With alacrity his companions obeyed.

A rod he led them, still on their hands and knees, after they had gained the level.

"There's no danger of our being seen now, I reckon," he declared, rising to his feet. "But we won't run any risk by showing too much of ourselves.

"Come on! While the Injuns and troopers are searching the other side of the ravine, we'll get back to the cliffs on this."

Overjoyed at their escape from the foes, which seemed little short of miraculous, the bandits broke into a swift, steady jog trot that carried them rapidly over the ground.

Nearer and nearer they approached the rocks that towered majestically ahead of them.

But just as safety seemed within their grasp, Frank gasped:

"I'm all in! The—wo—wound—in—my—leg."

And he sank to the ground, in collapse.

Muttering an oath under his breath at this misfortune when all was going so well, Jesse hurried to the side of his brother and the others joined him.

"Take an arm, Texas," snapped the bandit-chieftain, as he put his own hand under Frank's left shoulder and lifted him to his feet.

Quickly the other obeyed and, supporting their exhausted comrade between them, they resumed their progress toward the cliffs.

"I reckon we might as well go back into the canyon," asserted the world-famous desperado.

"We'll climb up to the table land where we rescued Tony and rest for a few days. We can see all about us. No one can surprise us and the bucks and troopers would never think we'd go back.

"We'll be able to find something we can eat."

This suggestion met with the approval of the others and the little band bent their steps toward the black cleft that marked the entrance into the rocky defile.

Occasional glances behind them told them that none of the pursuers had returned from the chase.

Indeed, no moving object could they discover in any direction and, with hearts beating light at their successful escape from the blood-thirsty, revenge-craving savages and the cavalrymen whose ire had been roused by their strategic errors, they were just about to enter the canyon when a lithe figure darted toward them from behind a boulder.

"It's more of the red devils," snarled Wild Bill, whipping out his guns. "We are smart—I don't think. While we've been patting ourselves on the back, they've been lying here, waiting for us."

Yet the alarm of the outlaws was short-lived.

Ere any of them could draw their weapons, a voice cooed, softly:

"Don' shoot! Don' shoot! Me Dew Drop!"

The relief the words brought to the bandits, who feared the fruits of their desperate escape and retreat were to be snatched from them, was inexpressible and it was turned to outright joy as the Indian maiden continued:

"Dew Drop take um Jess Jame to safe cave. Heap food. Heap water in pool. Then Dew Drop leave. Injun move camp, Dew Drop got go."

"Then if they're going to take you along, they haven't got wise to your hiding us in Kaw-Kaw's cave, I judge," exclaimed the bandit-chieftain, glad to know the assistance which had been so opportune to his little band had brought no trouble to the girl.

"Squaws no know. Bucks forget 'fore get back. Um go on raid. Sojers no be in forts now," returned Dew Drop.

"Sorry I didn't pot more of 'em if that's what they're up to," grunted the world-famous desperado.

But his good fairy did not understand what he meant and prattled artlessly.

Skirting the base of the precipice, Dew Drop passed the mouth of the canyon and led them more than a mile beyond, stopping when she reached a fissure that ran from top to base.

Squeezing into it, the bandits were plunged in darkness.

Putting his hand on his guide's shoulder, Jesse bade his men hold onto the one in front of him and in single file they advanced till they could feel from the change in the air that they had reached the cave.

"Dew Drop no stay," declared the maid, slipping from the bandit-chieftain's hand. "Mus' join um squaw. Paleface fin' grub, water. So long."

And, ere any of the outlaws had the time to protest, the Indian maiden sped from them, leaving them in the unknown cave in pitch darkness.

[Chapter VIII.]

IN THE FATAL CIRCLE.

But Jesse had plans other than to permit the soft-voiced Indian maiden to desert them thus suddenly.

Without a word, with the quickness of a panther he sprang after her leaving the others helpless and surprised at the unexpected action of their chief.

"Has Jess gone plumb bug house?" breathed Tony, scarcely daring to trust his voice.

"Everybody's got wheels in this devil's neighborhood," averred Texas.

"And if he ain't he will have in the hole we're in now," added Homely Harry.

Frank groaned weakly.

"Hey, pard," interrupted Tony, suddenly bethinking himself of their wounded companion, "How you comin' along?"

"Give me a drink," returned the elder James brother in a voice scarcely above a whisper. "I feel as if I was dying."

"Bosh," retorted Tony. "I know them symptoms. You're been loosin' some red juice. Here, take a pull at the flask. It'll put you right in a jiffy."

Frank James gulped down the liquor greedily, so much so that for the instant it nearly strangled him.

"How's that," grinned Tony in the darkness, fetching the flask away and restoring it to his ample hip pocket.

"B—b—better," coughed Frank. "But I'll be bad again in a minute. Where's Jess?"

"Dunno. He vamoosed like a lightning bug. Sloped after the Indian maiden I guess."

"Call him back quick," demanded Frank. "You, Texas. Hurry or I'll bleed to death. I'm bad hurt, I tell you fellows."

Without an instant's hesitation Texas sprang away to do the wounded man's bidding, regardless of any personal danger to himself.

But Texas did not have far to go.

Just without the cave he was grasped in a grip of iron. His hand flew to his belt.

"Stop, you fool! Where are you going!" hissed Jesse in his ear.

"Gad, what a fright you gave me," gasped Texas. "I was going for you. Frank's bad and said you'd got to come right away. Oh there's the girl, eh."

"Bad? Come along Dew Drop," and without further parley Jesse led the way into the cave, keeping tight hold on the Indian girl, who though reluctant, made no protest at being dragged back by the man she had just saved.

"Somebody strike a light," demanded the great bandit.

"No, no," protested Dew Drop with a quick pressure on the outlaw's arm. "Injun smell smoke. Stop um hole up an catch pale face. Jess Jame and other pale faces come with Dew Drop."

"All right go ahead and we'll follow," decided Jesse. "Frank can you walk?"

Frank groaned.

"Pick him up, two of you and follow. Be careful."

Not a word was spoken as the strange procession moved silently on, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the mountain.

The silence was, after what had seemed an age to the men whose nerves were tensed by the strangeness of the cave, broken by the voice of the Indian girl.

"Pale faces git down um bellies," she directed tersely. "Me go first."

Suiting the action to the word Dew Drop threw herself down and crawled through a hole in the rock. But Jesse, who followed, did not succeed in passing the narrow opening with the same ease that Dew Drop had, but he finally accomplished the feat with sundry exclamations of disgust beneath his breath.

Texas, more ample of girth, got stuck in the hole, which he had attempted to get through feet first, and he could not move either way. Jesse solved the difficulty quickly by grabbing the unfortunate outlaw by the feet and jerking him in beside him.

But with Frank the task was still more difficult.

"Easy there," commanded the bandit-chieftain. "Put him through head first and I will draw him in."

This they did, and though Frank groaned and begged piteously the move was quickly executed.

Dew Drop now led the way again, which Jesse observed led slowly upward and that the air was freshening as they proceeded.

At last the Indian maiden came to a quick stop.

"Light um fire," she directed tersely.

It was the work of a moment for Jesse to strike a match and to his intense satisfaction he discovered a pile of dry limbs in one corner of the chamber where they had halted, and a blazing fire was burning quickly.

The men uttered an exclamation of surprise.

What they saw challenged the admiration of every man present.

Millions of brilliant stalactites hung suspended from the domed arch above them, and gave back scintillating flashes from the light of the flames. For the moment they forgot the real purpose of their presence there.

"Diamonds, by Judas," exclaimed Homely Harry in open mouthed wonder.

"Diamonds, your eye," returned Texas. "Them ain't no diamonds. I know the kind, I've seen them before."

But Jesse had given no heed to their expressions of admiration.

Instantly the fire was started, he dropped down by the side of his wounded brother, making a hurried examination of his wounds.

"Give me a piece of lariat," he commanded.

Tony passed over a strip of tough leather. With this the outlaw-chieftain bound the leg just above the wound, administering a drink from his own flask, and turned to Dew Drop.

"Got any saw bones around here?" he demanded sharply. "That's what I brought you back for."

The Indian girl looked at him blankly.

"Pale face medicine man," he explained.

Dew Drop smiled understandingly, but shook her head.

"Two suns journey," she explained, pointing to the north.

"Got a medicine man in your village, then? We've got to have some one here quick and I guess a medicine man of one color is about as good as another."