By this time the pursuers were close at hand and gaining fast.
The ledge led straight away and upward for a hundred feet, when it terminated at a point in the dome as high as the middle portion. There the rocks were piled in irregular masses, and, knowing they could go no further, Ashman resolved that the last stand should be made there.
As he hurried onward, another shout fell upon his ear. It was a different voice, and he recognized it as Waggaman's, who was leading the advance.
The fugitive glanced backward, while toiling up the slope, and saw that the white man in his eagerness was fully a rod ahead of the herculean Ziffak, while the rest were stringing along behind him.
He might have wondered how the chieftain contrived to lose so much ground had he not seen him clambering to his feet. It followed that he must have fallen in his hurry to get forward.
"We have them!" shouted the exultant convict; "there is no escape; they are cornered!"
The words were yet ringing in his mouth, when he came to a stop.
He had reached the edge of the abyss and might well pause before trying to leap across.
The fierce king called to him to make the jump. It had been done not only by the man, but by the girl who preceded him; why should he hesitate?
Spurred by the taunt, the white man withdrew a few paces, and, like Ashman, ran swiftly, the next instant his body rising in air, as he made the fatal effort.