Once in the shelter of the spur, Lynch did not halt but rode on at full speed, heading northward. For half a mile or so the thudding hoof-beats of the two horses alone broke the silence. Then, as their advance opened up a fresh sweep of country, Lynch jerked his mount to a standstill with a suddenness that raised a cloud of dust about them. "Hell!" he rasped, staring from under narrowing lids. For full half a minute he sat motionless, his face distorted with baffled fury and swiftly growing fear. Then his eyes flashed toward the hills on the right and swept them searchingly. A second later he had turned his cayuse and was speeding towards a narrow break between two spurs, keeping a tight hold on the girl's bridle. "You try any monkey tricks," he flung back over one shoulder, "and I'll--kill yuh." Mary made no answer, but the savage ferocity of his tone made her shiver, and she instantly abandoned the plan she had formed of trying, by little touches of hand and heel, to make Freckles still further hamper Lynch's actions. Through the settling dust-haze she had seen the cause of his perturbation--a single horseman less than a mile away galloping straight toward them--and felt that her enemy was cornered. But the very strength of her exultation gave her a passionate longing for life and happiness, and she realized vividly the truth of Lynch's callous, sneering words, that when one actually got down to it, it was not an easy thing to die. She must take no chances. Surely it could be only a question of a little time now before she would be free. But presently her high confidence began to fade. With the manner of one on perfectly familiar ground, Lynch rode straight into the break between the rocks, which proved to be the entrance to a gully that widened and then turned sharply to the right. Here he stopped and ordered Mary to ride in front of him. "You go ahead," he growled, flinging her the reins. "Don't lose any time, neither." Without question she obeyed, choosing the way from his occasional, tersely flung directions. This led them upward, slowly, steadily with many a twist and turn, until at length, passing through a narrow opening in the rocks, Mary came out suddenly on a ledge scarcely a dozen feet in width. On one side the cliffs rose in irregular, cluttered masses, too steep to climb. On the other was a precipitous drop into a canyon of unknown depth. "Get down," ordered Lynch, swinging out of his saddle. As she slid to the ground he handed her his bridle-reins. "Take the horses a ways back an' hold 'em," he told her curtly. "An' remember this: Not a peep out of yuh, or it'll be yore last. Nobody yet's double-crossed me an' got away with it, an' nobody ain't goin' to--not even a woman. That canyon's pretty deep, an' there's sharp stones a-plenty at the bottom."