Bill drummed past, waving his arm, and swept out of sight around a bend, the wagon lurching and rocking after him. Out of the little valley and across a rocky plateau, down into an arroyo and up its steep, further bank went the wagon at an angle that forced a scream from Mollie. The dog, having broken loose, ran with it, eyeing it suspiciously from time to time. Jeff Purdy, the oblivious guide, slid swiftly from the front of the wagon box and stopped suddenly with a thump against the tailboard. George, playing rear guard, managed to hold on and then with a sigh of relief sat upon the guide and jammed his feet against the corners of the box. "So he—went back for—his friend to—find the way!" gasped Mollie in jerks. "What a pity—he did—it. I could—do better myself. I ’m being jolted—into a thousand—pieces!" Her hair, loosening more with each jolt, uncoiled and streamed behind her in a glorious flame of gold. Suddenly the wagon stopped so quickly that she gasped in dismay and almost left the seat. Then she screamed and jumped for the dashboard. But it was only Mr. Purdy sliding back again. Before them was the perpendicular wall of a mesa and another lay several hundred yards away. Bill, careful of where he walked, led the horses past a bowlder until the seat was even with it. "Step on nothing but rock," he quietly ordered, and had lifted Mollie in his arms before she knew it. Despite her protests he swiftly carried her to the wall and then slowly up its scored face to a ledge that lay half way to the top. Back of the ledge was a horizontal fissure that was almost screened from the sight of anyone below. Gaining the cave, he lowered her gently to the floor and stood up. "Do not move," he ordered. Her face was crimson, streaked with white lanes of anger and her eyes snapped. "What does this mean?" she demanded. He looked at her a moment, considering. "Ma’am, I was n’t goin’ to tell you till I had to. But it don’t make no difference now. It’s Injuns, close after us. Don’t show yoreself." [Illustration: "It’s Injuns, close after us"] She regarded him calmly. "I beg your pardon—if I had only known—is there great danger?" He nodded. "If you show yoreself. There’s allus danger with Injuns, ma’am." She pushed the hair back from her face. "My brothers? Are they coming up?" Her courage set him afire with rage for the Apaches, but he replied calmly. "Yes. Mebby th’ Injuns won’t know yo ’re here, Ma’am. Me an’ Jimmy ’ll try to lead ’em past. Just lay low an’ don’t make no noise." Her eyes glowed suddenly as she realized what he would try to do. "But yourself, and Jimmy? Would n’t it be better to stay up here?"