Quickly the other obeyed and, supporting their exhausted comrade between them, they resumed their progress toward the cliffs.
"I reckon we might as well go back into the canyon," asserted the world-famous desperado.
"We'll climb up to the table land where we rescued Tony and rest for a few days. We can see all about us. No one can surprise us and the bucks and troopers would never think we'd go back.
"We'll be able to find something we can eat."
This suggestion met with the approval of the others and the little band bent their steps toward the black cleft that marked the entrance into the rocky defile.
Occasional glances behind them told them that none of the pursuers had returned from the chase.
Indeed, no moving object could they discover in any direction and, with hearts beating light at their successful escape from the blood-thirsty, revenge-craving savages and the cavalrymen whose ire had been roused by their strategic errors, they were just about to enter the canyon when a lithe figure darted toward them from behind a boulder.
"It's more of the red devils," snarled Wild Bill, whipping out his guns. "We are smart—I don't think. While we've been patting ourselves on the back, they've been lying here, waiting for us."
Yet the alarm of the outlaws was short-lived.
Ere any of them could draw their weapons, a voice cooed, softly: