The moment the slackening hoist rope told him that Elsie had steadied her foster-sister down upon the cliff foot, Lennon ran to descend the rope ladder. Time was passing, and there was still much to be done. He must catch and saddle three good horses. Slade's punchers might not come for four or five hours. But the earlier the start of the fugitives, the better would be their chance of escape if the Navahos should seek to track them down. Elsie had drawn Carmena away from the heap of saddles and bags to a seat on a ledge. As Lennon sprang toward them from the foot of the shaking ladder Carmena called out and pointed over his head. One rope of the ladder had sagged as if broken. A moment later the ladder came slithering down the cliff face. "Cut--That face in the window--Cochise! He's not dead!" cried Carmena. "Oh, Jack, if you hadn't come down fast! He tried to make you fall!" Lennon was already running out to aim his rifle at the doorway from which the ladder had fallen. There was no sign of the ladder-cutter. Out of the side of his eye Lennon saw the crane swing back into the other opening and the hoist rope jerk upward. He swung his rifle to that side. The top sack of corn in the barricade slewed out over the brink. It toppled and came plunging downward. Above it a dark head came into sight, half out-thrust over the top of the other sacks. Lennon fired up past the falling bag of grain. The head jerked upward, twisted, and lay still on the edge of the barricade, as the sack of corn thudded and burst on the cliff foot within two feet of the saddles. To make doubly certain, Lennon sent up another bullet, as well-aimed as the first. His lips were set in a smile of stern satisfaction as he came to where Elsie was cowering in the arms of Carmena. "You were right--as usual," he said. "The knife could only have knocked him out for a time. He must have played 'possum. But he was disabled. Crawled after us--couldn't get a gun till we left and too eager to wait--thought we'd be under the hoist. Yet why he should have exposed himself----" "His wounds," divined Carmena. "The strain of heaving over the sack was too much for him. He collapsed. You're sure you didn't miss him, Jack?" "No. Through the head--same as he shot Blossom's father." CHAPTER XXIV HIS DAUGHTER'S FATHER Carmena stroked the dishevelled Elsie's yellow locks. "There, there, sweetheart," she said soothingly. "The fighting is all over. The bad Indian really is dead this time. You've no more need to be frightened. Brother Jack and I will take care of you." Elsie gazed up into the loving dark eyes of her comforter. "Why, of course, Mena, when you've always----" The blue eyes suddenly widened. "But--but not always--papa and mamma--it seems only yesterday---- No, you--all these years---- But then I can't be only ten! My goodness, what a funny rumbly-wumble in my head--just like two dreams mixed up--only they're real--both of them!" "Yes, both real--all real, Blossom."