"Watch out, boys! We're right on to the ravine!"
The warning came too late.
Even as the cry rang out, the bandits felt their ponies sink beneath them as the animals rushed over the edge of the gorge.
Never was such horsemanship as Jesse and his pals displayed.
To the average man, the plunge taken at the whirl-wind speed of the ponies would have meant death.
Turning the instant their pal's voice had sounded, the bandits steadied themselves by bracing their hands, still holding their revolvers, against the necks of their mounts, leaning back to offset the shock when the ponies should strike the brush-covered bottom of the ravine that yawned beneath them.
To any one in the gorge, they would have seemed like huge, ungainly birds sailing through the air.
For so terrific was the pace at which the animals had approached the ravine that their momentum carried them far out over the brush ere they began to drop.
"Be ready to slide when the pintos strikes!" yelled Comanche Tony, quickly realizing the danger. "If you tries to set your horses it will mean your death!"
Quickly his pals relaxed their muscles.