The veteran gazed down at the sloping expanse of stone that curved to the sheer drop of the precipice. He was absolutely helpless in the face of the catastrophe he had witnessed. A man, a girl and a dog had gone to their death in this frightful place within the minute. Already, the corpses were stewing in the Devil's Pot half-a-thousand feet below, he reflected grimly. There was nothing to be done for them now, or ever. He felt a whirl of nausea within him, but fought back the weakness. He shuddered, as he thought of the man behind him, lying senseless on the edge of the Slide. Was it Hodges whom he had seen plunge into the depths, or was it--Zeke? It was with fearful apprehension that he turned at last to learn as to which remained. A little cry of relief escaped him, for at a glance he recognized Zeke. He sprang forward, and, in a moment, had assured himself that the young man was not dead, was not even seriously wounded. He guessed that a fall on the rocks had merely stunned. As best he could with one hand, he got out his pocket-flask, and finally managed to force a little of the liquor between the clenched teeth. Presently, it took effect. The color came back into Zeke's face, and he stirred, and groaned. Then he sat up, resting against the veteran's arm. Before there was time for any interchange of words between the two, a shout aroused them to look toward the grove. They saw the marshal dashing down the slope. Close behind him ran Cyclone Brant. Uncle Dick lagged a little, the burden of years pressing too heavily at last. The three came swiftly and gathered about the two on the edge of the Slide. Dismay was writ large on their faces. The silence of the hound, Zeke stricken and alone with the veteran, aroused their suspicion of disaster. "Where's Jack?" Brant demanded. His heart was in the question. The fate of the others was of less concern to him than that of the animal he loved. Zeke answered, strongly enough, for now energy was flowing back into him. "The hound went over," he said, regretfully. "I saw him. He slipped an' fell, an' was gone like a flash." Brant turned away to hide his distress. But in Zeke recollection welled. He clutched at the marshal, and drew himself to his feet, where, after an instant, he stood firmly. His eyes went searchingly over the barren surface of the Slide. They dilated. Fright lined his face--then, horror. He stared wildly, his gaze roving over all the mountain-top, once and again--and again. When words came, they were broken, surcharged with the horrid fear that was on him. "Whar--whar is she--Tiny?" His look went to the four men in turn, piteously pleading. Each of the three met the look and answered it by a shake of the head. But the veteran could not endure the anguish in the lover's eyes. His own dropped. He did not shake his head. Zeke strove for courage. "Whar is she?" he demanded, at length. His voice was more composed now, but his eyes were flaming.