Though the Indian with the pony wore an Apache head cloth, Lennon recognized his ugly young face at the first clear view. He was Pete, the Navaho who had been with the Apaches under the cliff house on the day that Cochise had trapped Lennon and Carmena. Slade's manner toward him was that of a half-distrustful master. He questioned him hastily in English. Pete answered haltingly, with frequent lapses into the gutturals and hissings of his native tongue. His eyes glittered with fierce excitement. Lennon gathered that Cochise and his men were in the midst of an attack on the cliff house. This would seem to prove that the girls were still safe--and would remain safe. How could the Apaches hope to scale the sheer cliff without aid from above? But Slade's scowl showed that the situation by no means pleased him. He mounted Pete's pony and rushed the party up to the head of the canon. Instead of preparing to hold this position until the arrival of his reinforcements, he kept on up the valley at a jog trot. Once clear of the canon, Lennon could make out the sound of distant shots echoing down the valley along the cliffs. Within the first half mile the rescuers came upon a drove of big American horses. Every one showed signs of cruel driving over rocks and through thornscrub and cactus. When they scented the Navahos they snorted with terror, and all but two managed to bolt clear. In a trice the Indians had each of the frightened pair bridled with a leather thong fast about the lower jaw. Pete mounted the better animal. Slade drew rein beside the other horse and glowered at Lennon. "How about it?" he demanded. "You said you'd back me up. How do I know I can count on you not knifing me?" "You have my word," replied Lennon, striving hard to repress his eagerness. The irregular firing up the valley became more rapid. Slade scowled and thrust out Lennon's high-power rifle. "It's a go--that new deal. Take your belt, too. Guess I can count on you till Cochise is made a good Indian." With the white men and Pete mounted and the unmounted Navahos each gripping the mane of a horse, the party rushed up the valley at redoubled speed. Midway Slade angled down into the bed of an arroyo that curved around on the right of the corral and up to the mouth of Hell Canon. Though the horses were kept at a fast trot, the Navahos ran along beside them, seemingly without effort. As the head of the valley was neared, the irregular crackling roar of the rifle shots abruptly ceased. Lennon's heart skipped a beat. The sudden hush might mean that Cochise had given up his attack on the cliff house. On the other hand, it might be due to an overwhelming of the defense.