On their arrival, a hasty pow-wow was held and the next minute Comanche Tony had learned the purpose of the irregular mass of black along the edge of the ledge.
Lying flat on their bellies, the Indians braced their feet against the wall of rock and threw out their hands in front of them.
A sickening fear gripped the heart of the bandit as he divined that the objects were stones to be hurled from the ledge.
Wondering if he could warn his pals of the terrible fate awaiting them, Tony's eyes were drawn to the figure of an Indian standing clear of the others.
Like a statue he loomed.
All at once, he uttered an ear splitting yell.
He had caught sight of a black line of objects moving in the canyon below.
Immediately his braves joined in and as the strident warwhoops rent the air, the prostrate bucks exerted their strength and the first avalanche of stones was started on its mission of death.
But that it was launched too soon, the reader already knows.
The suspense to Tony, however, was awful as he strained his ears for the sound of his pals' voices.