To the
south the plateau ended in a drop that angled sharply down, almost a cliff
in places, and from this point of vantage the eye carried nameless miles
down the river.
"Are them friends of yours?" asked Dan Barry, as he stood among those
rocks. "Take a long look." And he handed a strong pair of field glasses to
Gregg.
The latter peered over the dizzy edge. Down there, in the very act of
fording the river to get to their side of it, he marked five horsemen--no,
six, for he almost missed the leader of the troop, a dusty figure which
melted into the background. All the terror of the first flight rushed back
on Vic. He stood palsied, not in fear of that posse but at the very thought
of pursuit.
"There's only one way," he stammered at length. "I'll--Dan, give me a hand
to get a saddle on Grey Molly and I'll laugh at 'em yet. Damn 'em!"
"What you goin' to do?" It was the same unhurried voice which had spoken to
Vic on the day of the rescue and it irritated him in the same manner now.
Kate had come running from the house with her apron fluttering.
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