baffling stretch of hard ground on the far side. Had the stolen cattle been driven across this and thrown on to the open trail leading to the Double X? Somehow he did not think so.
`Reckon I'll have another look at the canyon,' he decided. Forcing his horse into the water, he rode slowly upstream between the jaws of the gorge, looking closely on both sides for tracks. Presently he stopped short, for in a little sandy bay leading up to a cleft in the rock-face were the plain hoofprints of horses. Loosening his guns in their holsters, he followed the tracks. The cleft proved to be bigger than it looked, and almost choked with trees and brush, but a narrow path led up and out. Green rode slowly, head down to avoid the outflung branches on the trees, which got thicker as he climbed higher.
Suddenly came the swish of a rope, the loop dropped over his shoulders and he was yanked violently from the saddle; his horse, with a snort of fear, sprang from the trail and crashed from sight into the undergrowth. The moment Green struck the ground, which he did on his back, two men sprang upon him. They soon learned that despite the fact that his arms were pinioned, he was not done with. His right leg, drawn up to his body, shot out like a released spring, and the heel of his boot caught one of the charging men full in the stomach, hurling him, doubled up with agony, into the brush. His companion, however, flung himself full-length on the captive, and with the help of two more who now appeared on the scene succeeded in turning him on his face and tying his wrists securely behind him, having first slipped the rope under his armpits.
Now, fella, yu can either walk or be drug, which yu like,' growled one of the captors.
Green struggled to his feet and followed in silence. The party appeared to consist of four only. All were dressed in cowboy garb, and had handkerchiefs, slitted for the eyes, over their faces, and hat-brims slouched down to further conceal their identity. The man Green had kicked was still complaining and cursing.
`Aw, stop yore belly-achin',' said one of the others. `Yu musta bin loco to tackle him from the front.'
The hurt one spat out an oath in reply and staggered on up the winding path. Presently they stopped, and Green saw that they were on the tree-clad top of one of the walls of the canyon. Before them was a strip of grass, and then a straight drop of hundreds of feet on to the rocky floor below. The man who had addressed Green now spoke again: `Them tracks down there was made a-purpose,' he sneered, `an' yu shore walked into the trap, didn't yu? Well, we understand that yo're anxious to have a look at the country, an' we aim to give yu that same. We're agoin' to hang yu over the edge o' the cliff here. When yo're tired o' the view, let out a holler, an' perhaps someone'll hear yu.'
The others sniggered at the taunt, and the fellow who had been kicked added, `An' it oughtta cure yu o' pokin' yore nose where it ain't wanted.'
`Thought it was his foot, Snub,' gibed a third, and was instantly and heartily cursed for the slip.
`Bah! what's the odds? He'll cash anyway,' he defended himself.
`Mebbe he will; but that don't excuse yu for bein' every sort of a damned fool,' came the angry retort.
Green held his peace. He realised that he was helpless and that any protest would be futile. That these men had carried out or assisted in the raid he had no doubt, and having secured their booty, they had laid a trap into which he had blundered. That they would not allow a trifle like murder to stand in their way the removal of Bud had already proved. Any hope of a rescue by the Y Z boys he had himself destroyed by hiding his trail up the canyon.
`Anythin' to say?' queried the one who appeared to be the leader.
`What's the use?' retorted the prisoner coolly. `Get on with the murder, yu pack o' cowardly coyotes.'
`Murder?' grinned the other. `Why, we ain't goin' to do a thing to yu. O' course, if yu decide to stay where we put yu, it's more'n likely yu'll get hungry, but that's yore affair.'
He gestured with his hand to his followers, and while one of them secured the end of the lasso to the trunk of a neighbouring tree, the other two marched Green to the edge of the precipice, deftly knocked his legs from under him, hauling on the rope as he fell so that there was no sudden jerk. They left him swinging there against the face of the cliff, and he heard the mocking `Adios' as they rode away.
Green realised that his chance of escape was a slim one indeed. He was in the depths of the wild country, and it might be weeks before another human being chanced that way. Beneath him was a sheer fall to the bed of the canyon; above, by tilting back his head, he could see the edge of the cliff a scant ten yards away. Only ten yards, but with his hands bound it might as well have been ten thousand. He strained at the thong on his wrists, but it was seasoned rawhide.
He fell to wondering how long a man could live without food and drink. Days, no doubt--days of unspeakable torture. Already the blazing sun seemed to have sucked every drop of moisture from his body, and he was thirsty. He had seen men die of thirst, and to get his mind on something else, he took his `look at the country.' In other circumstances, the view would have impressed him with its savage grandeur. An unending succession of peaks, gorges, and forest-clad ridges stretched down from the Big Chief range and merged with expanses of rollingcountry in the direction in which he knew the Y Z ranch lay. Tiny streams, transformed by the blazing sun into winding strips of burnished silver, flashed here and there, while away on the left he could see a treeless blotch of yellow which he guessed must be Sandy Parlour.
A wheeling spot far away in the sky caught his roving eye, and his first thought was one of envy--the bird was free, it could go where it wished. Then a second spot joined the first, and a third. He watched them curiously; they were coming nearer, and apparently heading straight for the canyon.
`Vultures,' he muttered. `Wonder what they've spotted?' No sooner were the words spoken than he knew-- he himself was the attraction. `God!' he said, and his fingers instinctively clawed nhe cliff behind him. `An' that's why those hounds left me my guns, knowin' it would make it harder.'
Suddenly his whole body tensed : his clunching fingers had found a rough edge of rock, and by raising and lowering his wrists, he could chafe the thong against it. Feverishly he set to work, lacerating his hands in the process. The task was painfully laborious, since he could bring no pressure to bear, but it was his only hope. The vultures, now numbering half a dozen, came steadily on, and he could see in the stretch of sky other specks hastening to the feast.
`They ain't got me yet,' he gritted. `Wonder how long I can keep 'em off by shoutin'?'
Resolutely he applied himself to his task, though his muscles ached and his whole body was faint with fatigue. The birds were near now; he could hear their fierce cries and the noise of their wings as they whirled above his head. He knew that it would not be long before they would descend to attack. The thought of those great, curved, cruel beaks and his own defenceless eyes made him shiver.
Lower and lower wheeled the wild scavengers of the desert, until suddenly one, hungrier or more daring than the rest, swopped down upon the prey. The man saw it coming and gave vent to a loud yell, which sent the attacking bird away on a wide sweep and momentarily scattered the others. But he knew they would quickly return, and worked desperately.
His fears were soon justified. The flapping of the great wings grew louder as the birds wheeled in lessening circles above him. Again one of them dashed at his face, but swerved when he shouted. Nevertheless, it passed so close that a wingtip brushed his cheek. The whole flock was now perilously near, and a combined swoop by several of the birds would be the beginning of the end.
Summoning all his remaining strength, he wrenched savagely at his bonds, and fancied he felt them give a little. Another supreme effort which nearly dislocated his wrists and the thong parted. Torn, bruised, and numb, it was some moments before he could use the hands he had freed. Then, spreading out and trying the fingers gingerly, he drew one of his guns and waited for the coming onslaught. He had obtained his freedom only just in time, for the vultures, sensing that he was helpless, and emboldened by increasing numbers, now bunched together and swept down upon him. Green waited until they were only a few yards distant, and then fired four shots into the thick of them. Three dropped flapping and screaming into the abyss, while the remainder whirled past and upwards, and were soon mere specks in the sky again.
Having reloaded his weapon, Green dropped it back into the holster, and began chafing his numbed arms in preparation for the task of scaling the cliff. The stiffness mitigated, he twisted round to face the rock, gripped the rope as high as possible, and began hauling himself up hand over hand. It was no small job, even for one possessing the superb muscles with which a clean, open-air life had endowed the cowpuncher.
`Glad they wasted a new rope on me,' he panted, as he jerked and swayed dizily over the chasm. `An old one, an' them birds would've got their meal shore enough.'
Inch by inch he worked his way up, little roughnesses in the face of the cliff affording a slight hold for his toes and thus enabling him to rest occasionally, but his strength was fully spent when as last he dragged his weary body
