“Harsher still, my mountain beauty; but your aim may not be true, and——”
“One wave of my hand, Kansas King, and you might find out how true is my aim. Do you think I am a fool, to come this far from my home unprotected?”
Pearl spoke as though there were a hundred warriors at her back. The outlaw chief glanced somewhat nervously around, and, doubtless believing that the rocks and trees did conceal innumerable redskins, he said:
“You hold the winning card, fair Pearl of the Hills. I yield to the command of sweet lips, which yet I may punish for their unkind words with a kiss. Ruth Ramsey, we will meet again. Fair maids, I bid you good evening.”
Then, with a muttered curse, Kansas King drove his spurs deep into the flanks of his horse, and dashed away up the gulch at a mad speed. Before the rattle of his horse’s hoofs died away, there resounded through the cañon the heavy tramp of many feet. In dismay, Ruth cried:
“Come; oh, come, for the Indians are coming!”
Pearl listened an instant, and then said:
“No, those are not Indians, for I hear the iron ring against the rocks of white men’s shod horses; they are your friends.”
Before more could be said a long line of horsemen filed around a bend in the cañon. Whether friendly or hostile, it was then too late to fly.