"We must ride for it!" cried Sag Ruff, as the party from below came into view. "They are too many for us!"
"Ride it is," answered Morgan Fitzsimmons.
Both men struck their steeds fiercely, to force them into a gallop, and over the rocks they clattered. Maybe Dixon saw this, took aim at them, and fired four times. Mark also fired, and with a wild leap Sag Ruff's animal went down, throwing his rider over his head. The horse Morgan Fitzsimmons rode was also hit and ran wild, close to the edge of the rocks.
"Stop! Stop!" yelled the man from Philadelphia. "Stop! Whoa!" But the horse was too frightened to stop, and the next moment slipped and fell over the cliff, carrying the swindler with him.
Sag Ruff was partly stunned by his fall, but he managed to get up on his knees, flourishing his pistol wildly.
"Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" he screamed, and then Mark swooped down upon him from behind, threw him over, and disarmed him. In a few seconds he was surrounded and made a prisoner. Then the posse turned on the second Mexican and he also was disarmed and his hands were bound tightly behind him.
In the meantime those at the foot of the cliff had seen the tumble taken by Morgan Fitzsimmons and his horse. They ran to the spot, to find the horse dead from a broken neck. Beside the animal lay the man from Philadelphia, bruised and unconscious.
"I don't think he will live," said one miner, after an examination. "If he does, he will be a cripple for life."
When the fight was over, all hands gathered at the foot of the cliff, close to what had been the mouth of the cave. The two Mexicans were bound hand to hand and ankle to ankle, so that to escape would be next to impossible. Sag Ruff was tied to a sharp rock and Morgan Fitzsimmons was placed on a horse blanket. The man from Philadelphia was still unconscious, but in a little while he gave a groan and opened his eyes.
"Don't hurt me!" he murmured. "Please don't!" and then he relapsed into unconsciousness again.