"Listen!" whispered Price excitedly. "Wait till I get my own horse, an' I'll strike east across the hump. That'll start 'em after me maybe--sure it will, Rathburn! They'll think I'm you, see, an' light right out after me." Rathburn laid one hand on the old man's shoulder and put the other over Joe's mouth. "Joe, you're all excited--plumb unreasonable excited. You know I wouldn't let you do that. Now don't hand me more worries than I've got. Be good, Joe." He patted Price's shoulder, then swung into the saddle. The old miner looked up at him, his face showing strangely white in the dim starlight, pierced by the fire on the peak. "I didn't tell 'em you'd been here, Roger; don't forget that!" "I knew that, Joe," Rathburn chuckled. "So long." Swiftly he rode down the little meadow below the spring into the deep shadows of the canyon which led down a steep trail to the desert. Presently he checked his pace until he was walking the gallant dun. He wished to avoid as much noise as possible, and to save the horse for a final spurt down nine miles of desert to the Mallory ranch from the mouth of the canyon--providing he got out. For two reasons he had deliberately chosen this route: it was shortest, and it offered the best going. He must save the dun's strength. Rathburn knew the limits of his splendid mount; knew they had almost been reached; knew there was just enough left in the horse to make the ranch without killing him. The Coyote would surrender before he would kill his horse to effect his escape or gain an objective! Thus they slipped down the narrow canyon, with the desert stars gleaming white above the lava hills of Imagination Range, while the fire glowed on the peak above Joe Price's cabin. Rathburn's face was pale under his tan; his thoughts were in a turmoil, but his lips were pressed into a fine line that denoted an unwavering determination. Had Sheriff Bob Long seen his face at this time he might have glimpsed another angle of Rathburn's many-sided character--an angle which would have given him pause. Rathburn looked behind, and his eyes narrowed. Two fires were burning on the peak. Already the watchers were cognizant of his latest move and were signaling to those who might be below. He wondered vaguely why they had not surrounded Joe Price's cabin while he had been there. Then he realized he had been there hardly long enough for his pursuers to get there in any number. Suddenly his thoughts were broken into by a streak of red in the canyon depths below him. He swerved close against the rock wall, drew his gun, and, speaking to the dun, drove in his spurs. A short distance below he could see the faint glow of the starlight night and knew he was near the canyon's mouth. There were more streaks of red, and bullets whistled past him. Then Rathburn raised his gun and sent half its deadly contents crashing down into the trail ahead.