He was astounded.  Shadd had gone below that place where the attack had been made and he had come up this steep slope.  More horses appeared—­to the number of eight.  Shefford easily recognized a low, broad, squat rider to be Shadd.  Assuredly the Piute did not know this country.  Possibly, however, he had feared an ambush.  But Shefford grew convinced that Shadd had not expected an ambush, or at least did not fear it, and had mistaken the Indian’s course.  Moreover, if he led his gang a few rods farther up that slope he would do worse than make a mistake—­he would be facing a double peril.

What fearless horsemen these Indians were!  Shadd was mounted, as were three others of his gang.  Evidently the white men, the outlaws, were the ones on foot.  Shefford thrilled and his veins stung when he saw these pursuers come passing what he considered the danger mark.  But manifestly they could not see their danger.  Assuredly they were aware of the chasm; however, the level upon which they were advancing narrowed gradually, and they could not tell that very soon they could not go any farther nor could they turn back.  The alternative was to climb the slope, and that was a desperate chance.

They came up, now about on a level with Shefford, and perhaps three hundred yards distant.  He gripped his rifle with a fatal assurance that he could kill one of them now.  Still he waited.  Curiosity consumed him because every foot they advanced heightened their peril.  Shefford wondered if Shadd would have chosen that course if he had not supposed the Navajo had chosen it first.  It was plain that one of the walking Piutes stooped now and then to examine the rock.  He was looking for some faint sign of a horse track.

Shadd halted within two hundred yards of where Shefford lay hidden.  His keen eye had caught the significance of the narrowing level before he had reached the end.  He pointed and spoke.  Shefford heard his voice.  The others replied.  They all looked up at the steep slope, down into the chasm right below them, and across into the cedars.  The Piute in the rear succeeded in turning his horse, went back, and began to circle up the slope.  The others entered into an argument and they became more closely grouped upon the narrow bench.  Their mustangs were lean, wiry, wild, vicious, and Shefford calculated grimly upon what a stampede might mean in that position.

Then Shadd turned his mustang up the slope.  Like a goat he climbed.  Another Indian in the rear succeeded in pivoting his steed and started back, apparently to circle round and up.  The others of the gang appeared uncertain.  They yelled hoarsely at Shadd, who halted on the steep slant some twenty paces above them.  He spoke and made motions that evidently meant the climb was easy enough.  It looked easy for him.  His dark face flashed red in the rays of the sun.