As he spoke, he slipped off his steed, leaving him to work his own will.
Fred did not hesitate a moment, for there was not a moment to spare.

As he sprang to the ground, he pulled the beautiful Apache blanket from
the back of the mustang that had served him so well. Dragging that with
him, the two hurried to the right, making for a wooded crevice between the
rocks, which seemingly offered a chance for them to climb to the surface
above, if, in the order of things, they should gain the opportunity to do
so. Mickey O'Rooney, as a matter of course, took the lead and in a
twinkling he was among the gnarled and twisted saplings, the interlacing
vines, and the rolling stones and rattling gravel. As soon as he had
secured a foothold, he reached out his hand to help his young friend.

"Never mind me. I can keep along behind you. Go as fast as you can."

"Let me have the blanket," said Mickey, drawing it from his grasp. "Now
come ahead, for we have got to go it like monkeys."

He turned and bent to his task with the recklessness of despair, for, even
in that dreadful crisis, he thought more of the little fellow than he did
of himself. If he could have been assured of his safety, he would have
been ready to wheel about and meet his score or more of foes, and fight
them single-handed, as Leonidas and his band did at Thermopylae. But the
fate of the two was linked together, and, sink or swim, it must be
fulfilled in company.

The narrow, wooded ravine, in which they had taken enforced refuge, was
only three or four feet in width, the bottom sloping irregularly upward,
at an angle of forty five degrees. So long as this continued, so long
could they maintain their laboring ascent to the top. Mickey had strong