CHAPTER I.

INDIANS!

"Look! Look!"

The cry was uttered by the foremost of a little band of horsemen riding slowly in single file over the rocky bed of what had once been a raging torrent.

Darkness was descending over the canyon-traversed wilds of Southern Colorado and the air was hot and still.

Towering high above them, sinister and awesome in the half light rose solid walls of rock.

And as the leader of the little band had rounded a jutting crag, he beheld a sight that had brought the startled cry to his lips.

Far down the canyon, two fires glowed, seeming, in the darkness, like the luminous eyes of some wild monster.

Roused by the exclamation of their companion, the others drew rein, peering intently ahead of them.

Footsore and weary, for they had travelled fast and far during the day that was just drawing to a close, the jaded horses stood, with heads hanging low, while their riders stared ahead of them.

"Them's either signal fires or camp fires," grunted one of the men, after a careful study of the brilliant lights.

"Ain't you the wise lad, though," snorted another. "You talk as though we were tenderfeet. Any fool knows they're camp or signal fires.

"It's which of the two they are that counts. Tell us that and you'll be saying something."

"Well, Comanche Tony's the laddy buck who can find out," snapped the man who had first espied the glaring fires, slipping from his saddle.

And without heeding the protests of the others, he glided away, soon being lost to sight among the rocks.

The little band of horsemen were none other than Jesse James' notorious gang of outlaws.

After their sensational hold-ups of the Overland Stages in the Devil's Burying Ground, the last one of which had been done under the very noses of a troop of United States cavalrymen, the outlaws had headed for Arizona.

Hiding in caves and riding by night they had eluded the troopers and, at last, in the belief that they had outdistanced their pursuers, they had relaxed their caution, continuing their flight by day instead of under cover of darkness.

Consequently, when the member of the desperate gang of cut throats who was in the lead had caught sight of the fires, they were struck with consternation.

"It doesn't seem possible them sojers could have ridden round us," exclaimed Bob Moore, as Comanche Tony disappeared on his reconnaissance.

And this statement voiced the opinion of the others.

"No, it doesn't," returned the bandit-chieftain. "But you can't tell. Maybe they've sent word to one of the forts to the south of us and they've sent out a searching party."

"Phew! That would be tough!" gasped Sam Dirks. "We'd be between two fires, sojers in front of us and sojers behind us. It would take some figurin' on your part, Jess, to get us out."

The fact was so patent that the leader of the outlaws made no comment.

Well he realized the danger such a contingency would mean, yet till his trusted pal had returned from his scouting expedition, he could make no plans.

Finding that they could not draw their chief out, the others whispered among themselves for a while, finally lapsing into silence.

Steadily the two fires, that had so startled them, burned.

Once or twice, some of the bandits thought they beheld figures moving about them.

But the fancied forms disappeared so suddenly that they could not be sure.

"Seems as though it was taking Tony an all-fired long time," growled Wild Bill, glancing about him, uneasily.

But scarcely had the words left his lips than a piercing shriek rent the air.

"That's Tony!" "Suthin's happened to him!" "He's caught!" ejaculated the startled bandits.

With a burst of sulphurous profanity, Jesse slid from his horse.

"Whatever has happened, we must go to him," he snapped. "Frank, you and Sam stay here with the horses. The rest of you come with me. Be lively now!"

Yet before the desperadoes were out of their saddles, they received still another surprise.

The fires vanished.

With a suddenness that savoured of the magician's art, the two balls of flame disappeared before their very eyes.

"It's the Devil's work," gasped Bud Noble.

"Devil nothing!" snarled the world-famous desperado. "Come on! _We must rescue Comanche!_"

Little relishing the task of advancing down the canyon whose jagged sides seemed alive with men, so excited were the imaginations of the outlaws, they hastened on, stumbling and tripping over the rock-strewn trail.

With Wild Bill beside him, Jesse led the way.

Every few yards they stopped to listen.

But all was as silent as the tomb.

"I reckon we're purty close to whar the fires were," whispered Wild Bill, at last. "I can smell the smoke from 'em."

"Guess you're right. Boys, get your shooting irons ready. We're liable to run into an ambush any time. Keep to the rocks as much as you can."

But his warning was of no avail.

Of a sudden, the still, hot air was rent with whoops and yells.

"Injuns, or I'm a nigger!" gasped Wild Bill. "Poor Tony! He's in for it bad--unless we get to him!"

Jesse, however, had made a more important discovery.

The shouts of defiance had come from above.

And as the last warwhoop rolled back and forth between the towering cliffs, he raised his pistols, pointing them at random.

Crack! Crack!

Sharp and loud their report rang out.

Sounded a shriek of mingled pain and terror and the next instant a dark mass came hurtling down upon the little group of men standing huddled together on the rocky bottom of the canyon.

The smell of powder broke the spell that had fallen upon Jesse's comrades.

With rousing cheers, they greeted the falling form.

Viciously their pistols barked as they emptied them at the towering cliff.

But their exultation was short lived.

Yells, hoarse with rage, broke from the Indians.

High above them rang some commands in the native tongue.

And the next instant a deluge of rocks and stones was launched from the cliff above.

Fortunately for the little band of outlaws, the Indians had misjudged their position and the avalanche of missiles fell to the south of them.

Some of the scattering stones, however, struck the bandits, inflicting flesh and scalp wounds.

Walled in between the two sides of the canyon, the din was deafening.

All at once, as there came a momentary lull while the redskins awaited the result of their broadside, a voice bellowed:

"Back, boys! Run for your lives! The bucks have tons of rocks!"

It was Comanche Tony, who, despite the danger he ran of having a knife jabbed into him as he spoke, had braved death to warn his pals.

A moment Jesse hesitated.

Loath was he to leave his intrepid pal in the hands of the Indians. But he realized that should they tarry longer where they were, in the face of Tony's warning, the lives of all of them might be crushed out in a death more horrible than by bullets or torture--their bodies mashed to a pulp between the boulders hurled from the cliff and the rocky bottom of the canyon.

"Stop firing! Back to the horses!" he roared.

Amazed at this desertion of their comrade, the outlaws, nevertheless, obeyed.

And scarcely had they moved from where they had been standing before another broadside of boulders was launched.

"That was a close call," gasped Bud Noble. "It's a good thing we started when we did. But it don't seem right to leave Tony."

"We're not going to leave him," snapped the world-famous desperado. "When we get back to the horses, I'm going to take Wild Bill and Texas and go after him."

Anxious and excited were the two desperadoes who had been left in charge of the horses as they heard the sounds of conflict down the canyon.

Ignorant of how, what they supposed was a battle, might have gone, when they caught sight of the forms running toward them, Frank challenged:

"Who's coming? Halt or we'll fire!"

"It's all right! Don't shoot!" returned Jesse.

Relieved at finding the approaching figures were their comrades returning, Sam cried:

"Have you got Tony?"

But the world-famous desperado made no answer.

"The rest of you wait here. Post sentries and keep your eyes and ears open.

"Don't move from here till I get back. Come Bill. Come Texas."

And, his two pals at his heels, Jesse started up the canyon in the direction from which they were coming when they had first seen the fires, bound for a break in the wall of rock he had noticed as he passed.

But though he found it, because of the darkness, he was unable to make any headway, ignorant of the lay of the land as he was and, at last, he was forced to abandon his attempts to rescue Comanche Tony, deciding to wait till daylight should come.