For the space of several seconds Rathburn and his captive looked into each other’s eyes. Rathburn’s gaze was keen, alert, fired by the quick thinking he was doing. Stark terror showed in the other’s look which gradually changed to one of haunting fear and indecision. Then his eyes became clear and he returned Rathburn’s glance, cool and questioning.

“Get your horse,” ordered Rathburn, running to his own mount.

In a twinkling he had tightened his cinch, caught up the reins, and vaulted into the saddle. His captive was at his side shortly afterward.

“You’re still in the lead,” Rathburn snapped out; “unless you want to wait for ’em.”

The other whirled his horse, sent him flying for the western end of the pocket, with Rathburn close behind. They went up a steep, rocky trail, screened by boulders. When they reached the top of the west rim they looked back and saw four horsemen on the shale slope leading to the pocket. Brown evidently had split up his posse and was literally combing the hills for his quarry.

“They’ll know they’re on the right trail when they see the remains of our dinner an’ my pack down there,” remarked Rathburn dryly.

“But they haven’t seen us yet,” said Percy breathlessly. “If we can make Sunrise CaÑon Trail we can lose ’em in the mountains––that is if you want to lose ’em.”

“Where’s the trail?” asked Rathburn.

“’Bout five miles west. It’s the only trail goin’ up into the big mountains between here an’ the other side of the Dry Lake range, an’ it’s a tough one.”

Rathburn quickly sized up the country ahead. He saw low and high ridges with towering mountains to the right, or north, of them. There were scattering pines on the slopes and patches of timber in the wide ravines, many of which were veritable valleys.

“We’ll run for it while they’re getting in an’ out of that hole,” he suddenly decided with a click of his teeth. “Their horses are in no better shape than ours. Slope along.”

The other had dug in his spurs even before he got the order. They rode swiftly down the steep trail from the rim of the pocket and fled across an open space and up the slope of the first ridge.

Rathburn looked back as they crossed it, but could see no sign of their pursuers. His face still was troubled; his gaze kept boring into the back of the man on the horse ahead of him. At times he muttered to himself.

They galloped up the hard bed of a dry arroyo and swung westward across another rock-bound ridge, picking their way carefully among the boulders. Rathburn’s face became more and more strained as he noted that the leader evidently knew the country they were in like a book. Rathburn, with the experience born of years spent in the open places, was able to keep his bearings.

They had followed a course for some miles north of the main trail leading east, the trail by which he had first come into the locality. Then they had doubled back westward, some miles above that trail, of course, and now were heading almost due 54 north again, in the direction of the mountains which did not appear to be far away. He surmised that they were nearly directly north of the ranch where he had had the meal with the girl and boy.

At the top of the next ridge his guide pointed above them.

“See that crack in the mountain?” he said.

Rathburn nodded as he made out what appeared to be a gash in the steep side of a mountain north of them.

“That’s Sunrise CaÑon,” said the other quietly. “There’s a trail up that caÑon into the heart of the mountains where they couldn’t catch us––or you, if you want to go alone––in a hundred years!”

He stared steadily at Rathburn.

“Mosey along, then,” said Rathburn. “Let’s get somewheres before our horses drop.”

They kept along the ridge until it was cut by a caÑon. Here they descended and entered another long, narrow ravine which they negotiated at a gallop. At its upper end they again climbed a steep slope. Their horses were showing the strain of the hours of hard riding. Rathburn realized that they could go but a limited distance. But the members of the posse most assuredly must be in the same fix so far as their mounts were concerned.

He decided that if they could get into the caÑon unseen they would be able to rest their horses and remain secure for the night. Next morning they could continue on up into the hills, or slip back by a roundabout way to Dry Lake.

His lips froze into a thin white line. He did not look at the man with him as they paused for a few moments under the trees which covered the top of the ridge and gazed at a long, gently sloping stretch of nearly open country. It was covered with clumps of trees at intervals, that reached to 55 the dark, narrow opening in the mountains, marking the entrance to Sunrise CaÑon and the trail to the fastnesses of the higher hills.

“You can swing off here to the left an’ down a wide valley to where there’s a cut-off into Dry Lake,” he heard his captive suggesting. “I don’t see any sense in all this hard ridin’ an’ hidin’ if you’re goin’ to turn me in.”

“We’ll go on,” growlingly replied Rathburn.

They descended the ridge and entered the long, sloping valley, so wide that it virtually was a plain. They made good headway, although they favored their horses. They took advantage of the shelter provided by the occasional clumps of pines. The afternoon was drawing to a close with the sun dipping sharply toward the western hills when they came in sight of the entrance to the caÑon. But with the first glimpse they checked their horses and turned into the shelter of some trees near by.

“Beat us to it!” exclaimed Percy.

“Four of ’em,” said Rathburn, frowning. “Brown ain’t taking any chances. He’s a better man than I figured him out. An’ there’s more of ’em!”

He pointed westward where two riders were barely discernible on the crest of a ridge. They disappeared almost immediately in the timber below.

“We’ll turn back,” Rathburn decided. “We’ll ride with the trees between us an’ the men up at the caÑon, an’ keep an eye out for the pair to the west. You might watch that side, an’ I’ll look out for the east an’ south. C’mon, let’s drift.”

The face of the man who called himself Percy was white and strained as they urged their tired mounts southward. They skirted the western end of the ridge by which they had gained the wide valley and continued on, carefully scanning the landscape in all directions for indications of pursuit. It was 56 plain to them that they had been seen to leave the east trail early that morning. Brown and his men undoubtedly knew they had headed north, and the justice had immediately dispatched men to guard the entrance to the caÑon trail into the mountains. Then they had begun a systematic search of the locality.

This deduction was strengthened when Rathburn suddenly pointed toward the east. More riders were to be seen on the slope of the valley’s side in that direction. Even as they looked, these riders, too, disappeared from view as they dropped down behind a rise of ground.

The sun was going down fast. Already the red banners of the sunset were flaunted in the high western skies. The twilight would be upon them apace––the long-lasting, purple-veiled twilight of the altitudes. Then the night would close down with its canopy of stars.

Rathburn looked speculatively at his companion. “We’ll make a break for that clump of trees about a quarter of a mile ahead with all our horses have got left,” he said, driving in his spurs.

In a last mad dash which taxed every iota of strength and endurance left in their beasts they gained the shelter of the little patch of timber.

“Here we’ll wait,” said Rathburn coolly as he dismounted.

“What?” cried the other, staring at him incredulously. “We ain’t quite surrounded yet. We haven’t seen anybody in the south. That way may be open an’ it’s liable to be closed while we’re stayin’ here.”

“Get off your horse and unsaddle him,” commanded Rathburn sternly. “The best place to hide from a posse is in the middle of it!”