them on the cliff top never entered his head. He was utterly helpless now. Beebe had the drop on him and could kill him twice over before he could draw his own gun. Moreover, it was certain Beebe intended doing that very thing.
Ross was filled with a sense of futility, impotency. That he was about to die he did not consider. He was merely disgusted with himself for allowing himself to be checkmated when the game was practically won.
"So you thought you could get away?" Beebe was going on. It was obvious that he, too, was nearly insane. "Thought I was asleep, eh? I knew what was up as soon as I saw the kites. I could have got you then, but I figured the easiest and safest way would be to slip up here and wait behind a rock till you were all up. You wouldn't be looking for me and I could pot you easily. Well, I'm here and you're due for long journey.
"Thought you could outwit Larson Beebe, eh? I'm just going to shoot you and your precious Chink friend here now and kick you over the cliff. Then I'm going to take Virginie and."
Ross was conscious that Wong's right hand whipped to the base of his skull just above the collar of his blouse. In the same instant it came away again and now it held a long, thin, slender glittering blade!
There was another movement of Wong's hand so swift that he could not follow it. Ross only knew that a look of utterably blank amazement had overspread Larson Beebe's face. It was as though Beebe had seen a miracle performed before his eyes and could not fathom it.
Then, suddenly, Ross saw what had happened. The hilt of the knife that Wong had held was protruding from Larson Beebe's ribs!
For an instant Beebe wavered on his feet. His fingers relaxed and his gun clattered to the rocks. He pitched forward onto his face.
"Can do," muttered Wong. "One day kick Wong. Not kick again."
That night the three camped beside a little water-hole several miles down the main canon. Around the tiny campfire they made their plans for getting out of the desert.
Ross knew the general direction to take, and he felt confident that by taking it easy the girl would be able to make the journey on foot. Virginia Carver was confident.
The following morning Ross was awakened by footsteps on the rocks. He raised up to see two long-eared animals making their way down the trail to the water-hole. It was Archibald and Percy!
Ross let out a shout that instantly roused his companions.
"There's your ship of the desert that's going to carry you back to civilization," he called, as Virginia raised up from her bankets.
The girl did not comprehend. She gazed at the two animals in astonishment for a moment.
"But they're wild, aren't they?" she asked.
"Just as wild as two snails," said Ross. "Those two estimable gentlemen brought me into this desert, and they're going to take us out."
When breakfast had been finished Ross noticed that Wong was busily engaged in rearranging the weight of the packs.
"Never mind the packs, Wong. Friend Archibald here can carry Miss Carver and Percy can handle the supplies. You and I will go light, Wong," Ross explained.
"No can do," replied Wong. "Me no go you."
"What do you mean, Wong?"
"Wong go that way," answered the Chinese, pointing to the south.
"You go that way," asked Ross, perplexed. "Why? You're going with Miss Carver and me."
Wong shook his head. "Wong kill man. Think not stay in 'Nited States, Go Mexiclo."
"Nonsense, Wong," said Ross, "Miss Carver and I can easily fix that."
"Think not. Wong go 'Mexiclo. Got blother there. Buy li'le res'rant."
Ross saw that there was no use in trying to dissuade Wong. There was no combating such a nature. After a few moments Ross asked:
"Wong, where you going in Mexico?"
"Go Wa'lz."
"Going to Juarez, eh? What's your full name?"
"Name? Wong Chen Chek."
"All right, Wong. In about two months you go to the postoffice and inquire for a registered package. You'll find enough money in it to buy the best little restaurant in Juarez."
Wong grinned. "Thlank you."
Swinging his pack to his shoulder, he swung down the trail without more ado.
"Goo' bye. Goo’ bye, Missee," came back to Ross and Virginia Carver.
A half hour later the Chinese disappeared from view far down the canon. Ross turned to the girl.
Virginia Carver was gazing far out over the jumble of rocks and sand that is the Red Desert to where the mists of the morning were dissolving into the shifting haze of the rising sun.
For a moment Ross watched her without speaking. Fresh and vibrant with youth, she was lovely beyond words.
"I guess we had best be going now," he said. Then his voice stumbled, "Miss Carver—Virginia—when we get out of here—I've—I've something to say to you."
For a long moment the girl continued to look far into the colorful haze of the desert. Then she turned toward Ross. A peculiarly tender little smile wreathed her mouth. Her eyes were swimming pools of unshed tears.
Her voice faltered, "Would—would you mind—saying it now—Stanley?"
THE END.
Chicago Man Attacked by Fighting Owl
JOHN CASEY, night watchman for the Chicago Protective Agency, while "walking his beat" one night recently, entered a dark passageway in West Madison Street; and then, all at once—
"Something flew at me from the darkness," he said later, "and knocked my cap off and began scratching my face and clawing out my hair by the roots. I made a pass at it, but found I was fanning the air. Then I saw two blazing eyes, and struck at them. Before I could get out my gun the monster jumped on me again. I managed to swing on it with my night-stick—and that ended the fight."
To substantiate his story, Watchman Casey exhibited a dead owl measuring thirty-six inches from tip to tip, also numerous cuts and bruises on his hands and face.
