The men of the patrol ate their cold rations, rolled stiffly into blankets and were immediately asleep. Sutherland told Brophy, "Keep your sentries awake," and dropped to the ground. He uttered a quiet sigh and sank into dreamless sleep; without strain on it, his face turned cherub-like.

At black midnight, knowing the Apache predisposition to avoid night combat, he led the patrol out of camp. The column climbed snakelike over the timbered ridgetops, following Rubio's unerring nose. The black clouds that had collected in the afternoon now obscured half the night sky. Sutherland said to Brophy, "Slickers, Brophy--pass the word back. We're in for some rain."

The temperature had dropped sharply. In the mountain reaches ahead of them, thunder crackled. Sutherland called a halt at two o'clock under a beginning drizzle, and another at four, with the full blades of slashing rain cutting down upon them. They were beyond the timberline by now, entering the land of big rocks and wave-topped cliffs. It was almost impossible to see a hand at arm's length in front of his face; Sutherland found amazement in the way Rubio stuck to the Apache trail. Driving rain puddled the ground. No sHcker could keep it out; by dawn, which was bleak and gray, Sutherland was soaked to the skin. When he got down during the rest period, his feet made squishing sounds in his boots. The horses cropped at sparse grass, and then again the tired men were asaddle and away quickly, covering the chilled damp country of the morning at a lope.

At eight they fell across the scalped body of a trapper and Sutherland left a detail with it; at nine the detail caught up at a ford and they had not yet sighted the Apache raiders, though Rubio estimated them to be not more than a half hour ahead.

"They're holding back for us, Captain. They'll make a play pretty soon. We better turn back."

"There are six dead whites behind us." Sutherland rephed. "I intend to exact payment, Rubio. Keep on." His clothes were a soggy misery. Rain funneled down the trough of his hatbrim and poured in a steady stream before his eyes. Under the slicker his hand folded back the flap of his holster.

Eleven brought them to an opening of a flat-sided canyon that cut into a high northern slope. The rain was slackening; the gray-red walls of the canyon rose to dizzy altitudes before them. Sutherland pulled up; Rubio came back to meet him and Brophy gigged his horse forward to his flank.

Brophy said, "Rifle Gap, Captain. This is as far as we can go. The major's orders . . ."

"Shut up, Sergeant." Sutherland was quite aware of the orders. They expressly forbade him from advancing beyond Rifle Gap. "Rubio."

"Captain?"

"How much of a lead do those Indians have on us?"

"Not much," Rubio said, grunting. "Not much at all, Captain. I reckon if you went in there you'd find 'em quick enough—or maybe they'd find you."

"I want facts, not sermons, Rubio."

Rubio shrugged. "They went in there, all right. But was I you I wouldn't follow them."

Sutherland's fist softly pounded the saddle pommel. "It would take a half-day's ride to go around that mountain."

Rubio shrugged and waited quietly. Sutherland stared into the maw of the canyon for a long interval. Rubio said, "With a lot of luck, a cavalry outfit like this one can cover maybe forty-five miles in twenty-four hours. In the same period of time, an Apache can cover a hundied miles. He can go as fast on foot as you can go on a horse. It's something to think about, Captain. I wasn't fooHn when I said they could lose us in ten minutes flat if they wanted to."

"I know that as well as you do, Rubio."

Rubio's answering glance was skeptical. The drizzle continued, turning the air gray, turning the men's faces to a bleak pale shade. Sutherland said, "Damned few times you can get a band of Indians to stand and fight. When you can do it, you've got to figure that you've got a good break. I don't intend to give this one up. Next time, they may not be willing to fight it out."

"Give them an advantage like this one," Rubio argued, "and they'll fight every time. Captain, we've got no way of knowing how many are in there. They might have joined up with a hundred more bucks for all we know."

"I've seen no evidence of a larger party," Sutherland said stiffly. "Brophy, tell the men to bring out their rifles."

"But, Captain—"

"That's an order, Sergeant," Sutherland said tightly. "Carry it out."

"Yes, sir." Brophy wheeled his horse and trotted back to the head of the column.

"You see," Sutherland said, "I command loyalty."

"Any good soldier will give you that. Captain." Rubio's eyes were bitterly bright. "But what are you givin' them in return?"

Sutherland looked at the scout with what was almost a sneer. "You don't have to come with us if you don't want to, Rubio. I can do without you now."

Rubio considered him across the dismal silence.

"Why," he muttered, "at this point Tin better oflF with you than without you, I reckon. Alone in these hills, my scalp ain't worth a hill of dried beans. I'll go along. Captain—if nothing's going to change your stubborn damned mind. I'd like to have it on the record that I'm callin' you a fool, though."

A vast contempt rose in Sutherland's eyes. "That J will be all, Rubio." He turned his face straight ahead, and brought down his arm flatly. "Column of twos, forward at the trot!"

And so they rode into the canyon, sixteen long-legged men on horseback, rifles balanced across their pommels and muscles set on fine triggers. Rivulets of rainwater flowed in miniature cascades down the cliff-walls and formed a stream that wandered back and forth down the floor of the gap. Boulders, fallen from the far high rims, lined the floor. Rubio rode beside Sutherland at the head of the column, the bugler and Brophy behind them. Sutherland's eyes searched the fallen boulders. Their horses splashed and clip-clopped, steadily trotting.

Rubio spat on the rocks and said, "Don't lift your eyes. Captain. They're up there, on the rims."

Sutherland kept his face expressionless, maintaining the trot. There was no sound other than the noise of their own progress. "What are they waiting for, then?"

"They ain't scared," Rubio said dryly. "I can tell you that much."

"How far to the other end of this notch?"

"Maybe a mile," Rubio said. "Maybe there ain't enough of them and they're waiting for more to show up. Or maybe they want us to ride out of the other end of the canyon right into the main party."

Rubio spat again with his sharply sweeping eyes covering the turns ahead. "Play it easy, Captain--you may get out of this yet, with enough fool's luck."

"Shut up, Rubio."

The first warning arrow—a part of the ageless Apache game-the first arrow fell, clattering along the rocks, dropping among them. Sutherland shouted back, "Gallop!" and thundered through the canyon.

Echos lifted around them, pounding hoofs and flat gunshots through the sky, rebounding as if in a great empty tunnel; bullets screamed off the rocks. Sutherland's horse, tight on Rubio's tail, wheeled in and out of rocks while Sutherland lifted his pistol and thumbed off shots toward the high rims. The drum of hoofbeats and the steady rattle of gimfire deafened him; the plunging run of the horse almost unseated him, coming around a stiff turning, and then they were racing out onto a downslope with the bugler reeling on his saddle behind Sutherland. Sutherland's lips were clamped together, turned white by pressure; he led the column at reckless speed down that hill into the brush at its bottom. And just as he and Rubio splashed into the creek there the Apaches rose up from the bushes beyond, thrusting volleys of arrows and bullets forward.