of the leading horseman. She saw him dismount and pick up the warning.
At the same time Hopi Jim and Marrophat jumped up and ran back, each seizing and holding his horse. Constrained to do likewise, Judith waited with a throbbing heart. …
As the explosion smote dull echoes from the flanks of the Painted Hills, the boulder teetered reluctantly on the brink, then disappeared, followed by a rush of earth and gravel.
Presently, from the cañon below, a dull rumour of galloping hoofs advertised the failure of their attempt.
And then the girl made a surprising little speech to the cruelly chagrined men: "Gentlemen, I've something to say that needs your attention, likewise your respect. It is this: I am parting company with you. I am riding west by this trail. If either of you care to follow me"—the automatic flashed ominously in the sun-glare—"it will be with full knowledge of the consequences. If you are well advised, you will turn back and report your failure to my father."
She nodded curtly and swung her horse round.
"And what shall I tell your father from you?" Marrophat demanded.
"What you please," the girl replied, flashing an impish smile over-shoulder. "I am done with him as well as you."
