“If it looks as though--we can't make it,” he panted, “YOU beat it after the rest. I'll try to hold 'em until you get into the tunnel. Never do for 'em to get Ruth.” “Right.” My own breathing was growing labored, “WE'LL hold them. Drake can take care of Ruth.” “Good boy,” he said. “I wouldn't have asked you. It probably means death.” “Very well,” I gasped, irritated. “But why borrow trouble?” He reached out, touched me. “You're right, Walter,” he grinned. “It does--seem--like carrying coals--to Newcastle.” There was a thunderous booming behind us; a shattering crash. A cloud of smoke and dust hung over the northern end of the ruined fortress. It lifted swiftly, and I saw that the whole side of the structure had fallen, littering the road with its fragments. Scattered prone among these were men and horses; others staggered, screaming. On the farther side of this stony dike our pursuers were held like rushing waters behind a sudden fallen tree. “Timed to a second!” cried Ventnor. “Hold 'em for a while. Fuses and dynamite. Blew out the whole side, right on 'em, by the Lord!” On we fled. Chiu-Ming was now well in advance; Ruth and Dick less than half a mile from the opening of the green tunnel. I saw Drake stop, raise his rifle, empty it before him, and, holding Ruth by the hand, race back toward us. Even as he turned, the vine-screened entrance through which we had come, through which we had thought lay safety, streamed other armored men. We were outflanked. “To the fissure!” shouted Ventnor. Drake heard, for he changed his course to the crevice at whose mouth Ruth had said the--Little Things--had lain. After him streaked Chiu-Ming, urging on the pony. Shouting out of the tunnel, down over the lip of the bowl, leaped the soldiers. We dropped upon our knees, sent shot after shot into them. They fell back, hesitated. We sprang up, sped on. All too short was the check, but once more we held them--and again. Now Ruth and Dick were a scant fifty yards from the crevice. I saw him stop, push her from him toward it. She shook her head. Now Chiu-Ming was with them. Ruth sprang to the pony, lifted from its back a rifle. Then into the mass of their pursuers Drake and she poured a fusillade. They huddled, wavered, broke for cover. “A chance!” gasped Ventnor. Behind us was a wolflike yelping. The first pack had re-formed; had crossed the barricade the dynamite had made; was rushing upon us. I ran as I had never known I could. Over us whined the bullets from the covering guns. Close were we now to the mouth of the fissure. If we could but reach it. Close, close were our pursuers, too--the arrows closer. “No use!” said Ventnor. “We can't make it. Meet 'em from the front. Drop--and shoot.”