Just then the Piute’s repeater spit forth a bullet. The piece of lead was aimed at Clancy, but the instant the trigger was pulled Clancy jumped forward to investigate the bushes.
The bullet, therefore, missed Clancy by an inch.
That shot was enough for the two scoundrels. Jerking out their revolvers, they sent a volley into the hazels. That Cayuse was not killed out of hand was due to the quickness with which he rolled over the edge of the wall.
He shot down the slope head over heels, and was half-way to the place where he had left Navi before he could regain his footing. He was bruised, but that was no time to take account of bruises. His life had been saved, although Clancy and Coomby were dancing around like madmen on the top of the wall and still taking potshots at him.
Muttering anathemas on his hard luck, the boy raced in a zigzag line toward the thicket where his horse was waiting, tore the animal loose, leaped to his back, and sped off up the cañon.
He looked back over his shoulder as he raced and saw that Clancy and Coomby had beat a retreat from the vicinity of the blasts; and, while he looked, the boy saw a veritable geyser of broken stones leap upward and outward from the cañon wall.
A great gap had been torn through the barrier, and the boy saw a Niagaralike flood leap through the opening and roll, foaming and roaring, down the cañon.
Could he beat that flood to the gully? Cayuse’s life depended on it, and Navi was fleet and well in the lead.
Two miles lay between Cayuse and safety, but the miles were down-grade—Clancy had said so, and he had got his information from Lawless. Lawless probably knew, for the vengeful and murderous leader had so far laid his plans cunningly and well.
Navi seemed to understand what depended upon him. The roar from behind filled his ears and frightened him. In a perfect frenzy, he stretched himself out in a race that was to save his rider from death.