Keeping their seats on the backs of their madly galloping mounts only by the grips of their knees, the desperadoes were obliged to shoot with their bodies twisted round to face behind them. And small wonder was it that their aim was bad. But on the three remaining redskins rushed, firing frantically and behind them thundered the rest of the savages and the troopers, yelling encouragement. No chance was there for the little band to throw off the pursuit when they reached the ravine unless the trio of braves was killed. Cursing furiously as he saw the second volley had accomplished no more than the first, Jesse forebore to call for another. Well he knew that it had been the bullets from the gun in his right hand that had toppled the two Indians from the horses and he made up his mind that upon him devolved the killing of the others. With the marvelous rapidity that had won him his reputation, he snapped his trusty "Colts" in quick succession. Two more of the savages pitched from their ponies. Again his guns spoke. Yet before he could see the result of his last attempt to drop the lone buck, Homely Harry shrieked: "Watch out, boys! We're right on to the ravine!" The warning came too late. Even as the cry rang out, the bandits felt their ponies sink beneath them as the animals rushed over the edge of the gorge. Never was such horsemanship as Jesse and his pals displayed. To the average man, the plunge taken at the whirl-wind speed of the ponies would have meant death. Turning the instant their pal's voice had sounded, the bandits steadied themselves by bracing their hands, still holding their revolvers, against the necks of their mounts, leaning back to offset the shock when the ponies should strike the brush-covered bottom of the ravine that yawned beneath them. To any one in the gorge, they would have seemed like huge, ungainly birds sailing through the air. For so terrific was the pace at which the animals had approached the ravine that their momentum carried them far out over the brush ere they began to drop. "Be ready to slide when the pintos strikes!" yelled Comanche Tony, quickly realizing the danger. "If you tries to set your horses it will mean your death!" Quickly his pals relaxed their muscles. And well was it that the old Indian fighter had given the advice. With feet braced stiff, the ponies struck the ground. There was a snapping and cracking and the poor beasts sank down, their legs broken by the awful force of the impact. Yet even as they fell, the outlaws, prepared by the warning of Comanche Tony, shot over their heads, landing in the bushes unscathed save for scratches and the jolting they received as they struck. And as they picked themselves up, they heard the captain of the troopers roar: "Find the horses! Jesse and the bunch'll be near 'em. No man could take that plunge and come out whole."