Tesno seized one of the saddle horses in front of the building and swung across town at a canter. He got no glimpse of Madrid till he was through the woods and at the edge of Vickers' camp; then he saw him far ahead on the wide, slow-climbing road that led to Runaway Mountain and the tunnel. Madrid looked back, urged his horse ahead a bit faster, and jogged out of sight around a bend.

Tesno reined into the empty camp and rode through it at a gallop. By taking the steep mule trail up the side of the gulch, he would avoid the possibility of being ambushed at that bend. If Madrid waited there, Tesno could cut him off. If not, he would at least close up some of the distance and have a chance of overtaking him before he reached the timber on the mountain top.

He found the horse willing and sure-footed on the narrow, twisting trail, and he gave the animal its head. The climb took longer than he had expected. But when at last the horse strained up the final steep ascent onto graded roadbed, Madrid was a scant hundred yards ahead. Tesno yelled at him to halt, drew his revolver, fired a wild shot.

Madrid continued at a trot. He rode straight to the gaping black arch of the tunnel, then veered to the left into the road that began its climb to the summit here. Tesno prodded his horse forward at an easy lope. He reached the road with Madrid directly above him, hardly within effective revolver range. Madrid wheeled his horse around, whipping a Winchester from its boot. He quickly aimed and fired.

Tesno's horse dropped in its tracks, making a sort of uncompleted somersault, pitching him forward out of the saddle. He landed painfully on a shoulder, rolled to his feet. His revolver was gone; he combed the ground with his eyes, didn't see it. A bullet drove past his head close enough so he could hear its angry buzz. Madrid was plunging down the road toward him, firing the rifle as he came. There was nothing to do but run, no place to run but into the tunnel. Another bullet tore splinters from a shoring timber at the portal as Tesno darted inside.

The tunnel was deserted, the crew in town. The arc lights that usually lighted the shaft had been turned off. A lantern glowed just within the portal; Tesno stooped and turned it out. He ran on into the darkness. He looked back to see Madrid framed in the arch of the portal, getting down from his horse, stooping to pick up something. My gun, Tesno thought.

Madrid raised his rifle then and fired blindly, whimsically, into the tunnel. Tesno leaped to the left wall and threw himself headlong. Madrid rapidly emptied the Winchester and threw it aside. Tesno hurried on. The dead end of the tunnel in the middle of a mountain was a hell of a place to die, he thought. He was aware now of a light somewhere ahead, too dim and distant to silhouette him. It must be back a way on the bench, he thought. If he could get up there, find a weapon, that would be the place to make a stand.

He looked back again. Madrid had found a lantern and lighted it. He held it above his head as he walked forward. His revolver gleamed in his other hand.

A minute later, Tesno reached the bench. This rose fourteen feet above the floor of the tunnel. Above it, the eight-foot shaft of the heading extended another forty or fifty feet into the mountain. The timbers resting on the bench had to be replaced as it was removed; so it was cut away in slices and presented a vertical face. A ladder stood against this. Tesno scaled it and drew it up after him.

His first impulse was to put out the lantern that burned up here, but he decided against this. He turned it up brighter and moved it to the very edge of the bench against one wall. Using his hat and a tool box, he quickly rigged a shield so that light was thrown below the bench while the top of it was relatively dark. There were tools up here—picks, pry bars, drills, sledges—that could be used as weapons. He looked around for dynamite but saw none. Then he found a sixteen-foot pole, probably used in maneuvering timbers into place, and suddenly he had a plan.

He shoved the ladder forward so that two rungs projected over the edge of the bench. He then lowered the pole, leaning it against the face of the bench with its end in view beside the ladder.

Madrid had been approaching slowly, holding the lantern high, stopping every few yards to shine it from side to side. He saw Tesno now—or more likely the shadows he threw on the tunnel walls as he moved. Anyhow, he came forward swiftly now, the revolver raised for a shot whenever he saw a solid target.

Tesno retreated from the edge, bending low. He selected a percussion drill as a weapon—an eight-foot steel shaft with a sharp chisel point. Dragging this beside him, he crawled to a position near the ladder and lay parallel to it. He watched the light from Madrid's lantern move along the timbers at the top of the tunnel, saw it come to a halt a few yards in front of the bench.

Madrid wasn't likely to come barging up on the bench. A surer way would be to climb to the level of the bench a few yards in front of it. This would bring the whole upper surface into view—and easy revolver range. But in any case, he would have to have the ladder.

Tesno lay motionless, gripping the long, heavy drill, watching the three inches of pole that stuck above the edge of the bench. Moving shadows on the tunnel wall told him that Madrid had set down his lantern and was coming quietly forward.

The pole-end moved, disappeared, reappeared between the rungs of the ladder. Tesno rose to a crouch. This was the trap. Madrid was taking the bait. For this moment, Tesno knew exactly where the man was. Reaching with a sixteen foot pole is a two-handed job; Madrid's gun would be in its holster. Grasping the drill like a spear, Tesno leaped over the edge.

Madrid swung the pole awkwardly and too late. The sharp steel point of the drill was already at his chest with Tesno's weight and the force of a fourteen-foot drop behind it. He uttered a strange muffled cry as Tesno pitched past him.

Tesno sprawled flat on the uneven floor, rolled to one side, and got painfully to his feet. Madrid lay on his back with the drill pinning him to the tunnel floor. He was dead when Tesno reached him.

A great crowd filled the street in front of the hotel. Tesno tied Madrid's horse and elbowed his way to the entrance. Ben Vickers touched his elbow.

"Jay shot himself," Ben said. "Seems they didn't think to search his room. He had a gun in there. You overtake Madrid?"

"In the tunnel, Ben. Not a pretty sight."

Sam Lester came out of the lobby. He turned his thick lenses up at Tesno and said, "No reason for Persia and me to stay in the county now. I'm taking her away." He moved on.

"Seems like those two will get off easy," Ben said. "Then again maybe they won't. They have each other."