"Yes."

"How many are in it?"

"Nine, without counting the chief."

"Your retreat is in the Grand Cañon."

"You know this?"

"I do."

"Yes, our retreat is there."

"And your chief?"

The outlaw did not reply, and a shudder passed through his frame.

The scout spoke again, and, leaning over, he heard a few whispered words from the dying lips which a moment after were sealed forever by death.