They still had ten long, uphill miles ahead of them. Johnny began to believe they would make it. But what about tonight? The horses they rode would have to face the test again then. The boy knew they would never meet it. Better to drive them now to their last ounce of endurance and make sure of temporary safety. “Give ’em the spurs!” he cried. “Crowd ’em!” With it all they were none too soon. Ten minutes after they had entered the mine, their horses ahead of them, the posse swung around the bend below. “They can’t be dumb enough to miss us,” Johnny grumbled. “Some of them may go by; but they’ll be back. We’ll fight it out here.” Charlie and he crawled out upon the tailings from the mine, and there, flat on their stomachs, they watched the men swarming below them. “Spotted us first crack,” the boy said with a growl. “I knew it! Couldn’t fool old Hobe. He savvies this country.” “Me shoot now?” Charlie questioned. “No, not now. By and by we shoot. They won’t smoke us out of here in a hurry.” Down below the men were spreading out fanwise. Johnny caught glimpses of them as they moved from cover to cover. They had sent their horses down the cañon. Charlie Paul glanced at Johnny. He understood the movement below. The pursuers were circling them. Being an Indian, Charlie knew that it was very bad to wait for that circle to close. Death was usually the price of it. “No good wait,” he argued. “No use shoot bimeby.” “Let ’em shoot first,” Johnny counseled. “They used to be my friends. Reckon they ain’t now. When we shoot we’ll shoot to kill.” Half an hour passed without a gun being fired. Johnny felt reasonably safe. The mine was perched on the side of the mountain high above the surrounding country. In front of the tunnel the ground fell away rapidly to a small flat seventy-five yards below. Across this flat the attack would eventually come. Kent might surround the mountain and thus cut off his quarry’s escape, but Johnny did not worry about being ambushed from behind. Only a mountain sheep could climb up those walls of basalt. Kent must have come to the same conclusion, for his forces began to close in on the flat. Stuffy Tyler made it first. Johnny’s gun barked as the man started to dash across the flat. Tyler crawled back to shelter behind a bowlder. “Next man who tries that gets killed,” Johnny yelled. The word brought Molly to the boy’s side. He pulled her down. “Don’t stand thata-way,” he warned her. “Is there going to be killing here, Johnny?” Molly asked chokingly. “Reckon there’s certain to be.” “Father’s down there. I—I wouldn’t want him killed—” “He’ll have to look out for himself,” Johnny said without a second’s hesitancy. “It’s me or him. This thing goes through to a finish this time. You go back in the tunnel a ways. There’ll be shootin’ directly.”