Then it dawned on him that the bucks had been testing his courage by aiming the scalping knives so they would just miss him, if he remained motionless--and he thanked his lucky stars that he had not tried to dodge them. It was the very refinement of torture to which he had been subjected. And well the redmen knew it. To see the wicked blades coming for his head and not to move it when he was free to do so was an ordeal such as only one man in a million could survive. But Comanche Tony was that one man. Eagerly the bucks had watched him. When they saw he had faced death unflinchingly, they grunted in grudging admiration. "Paleface heap brave," exclaimed Great Bear. "Me know um now. Only one paleface got nerve like that. Him Jess Jame. You Jess Jame. "Injun hate Jess Jame! "You got die!" The logic of the chief was crude. But it answered his purpose and again he repeated: "Injun hate Jess Jame! Um got die! Burn um at stake!" Turning to his warriors, Great Bear addressed them in the Navajos language earnestly. And so engrossed were the bucks in listening to the words of their chief that they failed to see three faces rise cautiously above the edge of the cliff and gaze at the strange scene. Jesse had found the trail and was soon to make his presence known. When the bandit-chieftain and his men had reached the ledge whence the rocks had been hurled at them, he had ordered all but Wild Bill and Texas Jack to wait there while he and his chosen pals climbed to the top, fearing that the approach of all might be heard by the redmen. Sweeping the top of the cliff with a hurried glance the world-famous desperado had seen, with joy, that he was in time to save the life of his chum. Yet because he was aware that to act too soon would be as bad as to act too late, he dropped back behind the cliff again. "Texas, go down and bring the others up," he whispered, putting his mouth close to his pal's ear. "Don't make a sound going down. But it won't matter coming back. "_I reckon the fun'll be on before you get here!_ "But hurry. We'll have our hands full." Hastily the bandit descended and again Jesse straightened up and peered over the edge of the precipice. And what he saw made his face grow hard as he raised his six shooters. Bearing burning brands in their hands, two bucks were advancing toward their victim tied to the stake, while two more carried armsful of dried twigs and leaves. Less than ten feet were they from Comanche Tony. Squatting about the campfire, prepared to enjoy the writhings of their captive, sat the rest of the Indians. The distance from the edge of the cliff to the stake was too great for a pistol shot. Yet Jesse realized that he must act at once were he to spare his chum awful suffering. Bending toward Wild Bill, he breathed: "We've got to rush 'em! Come on! Nail the devil's with the firebrands first!"