“Wait!” Dick cried.
For a moment it had seemed as if the scar faced Indian would plunge his knife into Toma’s breast, but the agile young guide twisted suddenly, like a snake, and Many-Scar was tripped to his knees.
Then as Toma leaped in to follow up his advantage, Many-Scar whirled away, leaped to his feet and once more they circled.
“Many-Scar is getting the worst of it,” Dick breathed a few moments later.
“He sure is,” agreed Sandy exultingly.
Toma’s enemy plainly was weakening. Dick and Sandy prepared to see the final thrust, when of a sudden the scar faced Indian broke away and ran like the wind straight toward the gorge.
“They’ll fall into the gorge!” Dick cried, starting to run toward them.
But Many-Scar Jackson and Toma, too, seemed uncognizant of any immediate danger from a fall. Many-Scar ran like a deer, and as he reached the edge, he leaped into the air. Like a bird he soared across the space between the two cliffs, landing safely on the other side, where he vanished into the bushes.
“What a jump!” exclaimed Dick.
“I can’t believe it,” Sandy said amazedly. “Why, it was a broad jump record. It’s nearly thirty feet between the cliffs.”