The command was obeyed. Whether the other outlaws desired Buffalo Bill’s death as their leader did, he had such a hold upon them that not one objected to the mode of vengeance to be wreaked upon the scout. The horses were led to the brink of the steep hill. It had once been the stage-road; but a landslide, and various heavy rains, had made it impracticable. It was almost as steep as the side of a house in places, and the roadway was full of boulders and stumps, while the gulleys made by heavy rains cut through it in many spots. A careful pack-animal might pick its way from top to bottom safely; but no vehicle could exist in a passage down Breakneck Hill. The hill was not a continuous decline. It pitched sharply at first; then there was nearly a quarter of a mile of easy going along a plateau until there came the final and impassable descent into the valley. “Now, Buffalo Bill, your life ends here!” cried Bennett savagely. “All right, Bennett! And the boys won’t forget how I died,” was the reckless response. “Turn ’em loose!” shouted the bandit leader. The men at the bits sprang aside. The horses, having stood so long, and “smelling their oats” ahead of them, were eager to be off. With a great tug the coach started, the harness clattering about the horses’ heels almost immediately as the coach pitched over the rise. This, and the shouts and yells of the outlaws, frightened the poor brutes. They felt no restraining hand on the lines; there was no foot on the brake. The coach was coming down behind them with all its weight. Therefore the horses leaped away, frightened beyond reason. The old coach bumped and swayed. The rough, steep pitch was not long, but it looked as though the coach would not arrive at the bottom of this first incline without being smashed. Down it thundered, the wheels bumping, the body swaying, and the bound figure, on the seat unable to retard it in the least. Behind thundered the big white horse, for, breaking away from its captors, Chief intended to follow his master to the death! Not far away from the scene of the hold-up of the stage-coach by the outlaws, and near the time that the coach and horses were released upon this dangerous dash down Breakneck Hill, a horseman was crossing a table-land, one side of which was formed by the steep wall of the bluff down the face of which the old stage-road led. Though alone upon the table-land, far in the rear other horsemen were visible upon his trail. At first glance one might have thought that it was a chase, the man in front being pursued by the score or so of men behind him; but a second scrutiny would have shown that it was merely the difference in horse-flesh and human endurance that caused the long space to separate the leader and his followers.