R-r-rip! crashed the sharp, staccato volley of carbines. The aim of the cavalrymen was deadly. With shrieks of pain, three of the outlaws threw up their hands and pitched forward. Convulsively their bodies twitched for a few moments and then lay still, while their life blood oozed from wounds in their backs, saturating their clothes and making soggy the ground on which they lay. With a terrible oath, the world-famous desperado hissed: "Don't try to return the fire. Our pistols won't carry up the cliff. Into the woods! Leave the bodies!" As they saw the desperadoes continue their flight without stopping to take their dead pals with them, a mighty cheer broke from the soldiers. And, while it echoed, again the deep-lunged voice bellowed: "Fire!" Once more the rattle of the musketry rang out. But this time no men fell. The outlaws had gained the protection of the evergreens. "Who's here?" demanded Jesse, a strange tremor in his voice. "Answer to your names as I call them." So sudden had been their dash from the unprotected trail of the cliff to the woods that none of the outlaws knew who of their number had fallen victims to the terrible rain of lead that had been literally poured down on them from the edge of the precipice above. And it was with bated breath that they heard their leader say: "Comanche Tony!" "O.K." "Wild Bill?" "Here." "Texas Jack?" "Here." "Sam Dirks?" Heavily the others drew in their breath as no one answered. "Sam Dirks?" repeated Jesse, in hushed tone. "Poor Sam." "Frank?" "Here." "Homely Harry?" "O.K." "Bud Noble?" Again there was no answer. "Bob Moore?" Silence greeted this name also. A moment later the bandits stood. The calling of the roll in the sombre setting of the overhanging branches of the evergreen trees, through which, here and there, the moonlight filtered, amid the crash of the carbines and the whistle of the bullets, as they searched out the possible hiding place of the little band of fugitives, was dramatic in the extreme. And the outlaws, rough and desperate men as they were, were cowed as they realized that the same death they had visited upon so many helpless mortals, had thinned their own ranks. And the shock was all the greater for the reason that they had practised their nefarious pastime with such seeming immunity that they had come to look upon themselves as bearing charmed lives. Not long, however, were they left to their thoughts. Of a sudden, above the cheering of the troopers, above the rattle of the musketry, above the shrilling of the bullets rang the wild, blood-curdling war whoops of infuriated redskins. "Quick, on your bellies under the trees!" whispered Jesse. "We'll let the devils charge the soldiers and may they battle till every one, Injun and trooper, falls dead!" But just as the bandits were obeying their leader, there sounded from close beside them a plaintive: