Cochise shot past, whirled, and closed in with the fury of a wildcat. Lennon's parry of the knife stab was sheer luck, but not the blow that he drove to the solar plexus. Superb as was the physical condition of the young Apache, that solid jolt sent him reeling back, gasping for breath. Lennon closed and sought to wrest away the knife. He twisted down on the Apache's wrist. The knife fell to the floor. He bent to grasp it. Cochise dropped upon him and seized his throat. The slender sinewy hands tightened with frightful force. A few seconds of that throttling pressure would have brought unconsciousness to Lennon. In vain he sought to tear loose the strangle hold. He was on the verge of frantic flurry when his failing reason fixed upon the fact that there was a lump under his down-pressed back. By great effort he wrenched his body around. His groping hand grasped the fallen knife. At the second stroke the terrible clutch on his throat relaxed. Cochise twisted convulsively and rolled over on his back. Lennon wheezed, felt his throat, and jerked himself over, ready to drive the knife into the heart of his merciless enemy. Cochise lay inert, his mouth agape and his eyes rolled up so that only the whites could be seen. Lennon's deep-drawn sigh of satisfaction over that death-mask face caught in the midst and turned into a gasp. He flung himself about to the doorway of the still-room. Where the still had stood was now only a hole in the stone floor. He did not look too closely at the general wreckage. His half-dazed roving gaze fell upon Carmena. She lay as inert as Cochise and the Apache guard. Yet she was not dead. A fragment of stone or metal, or the shock of the explosion, had injured her back. He carried her out into the anteroom. She revived. But when she sought to rise, she sank back with an ominous limpness. "Carmena!" he cried. "Carmena--what is it? You're hurt!" She smiled up at him, her dark eyes radiant with infinite tenderness and devotion. "It's all right, Jack--all right," she murmured. "I wanted to do it--for Blossom--and you, dear. Now you are safe. The way up the canon is clear. Take the right fork, then, each time, the left of the next forks. The trail is only a few miles west, over the mesas. You'll find Blossom in the mummy room. Hurry off with her before Slade's men come. Hurry--don't linger----" "You----" broke in Lennon. "Can you think I would leave you here?" "There's no other way. My back--I can't sit up, and my legs are numb. I can't move them." "I'll carry you, and there's the hoist rope." "No use. I couldn't ride." "I'll carry you," repeated Lennon. The girl laid a gently caressing hand on his arm. "Don't you understand, dear? My back--it must be broken. We must think of Blossom. You must hurry off with her while there is time. Isn't it good that you love her?" Lennon uttered a choking cry and caught the girl up in his arms. He clasped her to him in an agony of love and remorse.