Turning the instant their pal's voice had sounded, the bandits steadied themselves by bracing their hands, still holding their revolvers, against the necks of their mounts, leaning back to offset the shock when the ponies should strike the brush-covered bottom of the ravine that yawned beneath them.
To any one in the gorge, they would have seemed like huge, ungainly birds sailing through the air.
For so terrific was the pace at which the animals had approached the ravine that their momentum carried them far out over the brush ere they began to drop.
"Be ready to slide when the pintos strikes!" yelled Comanche Tony, quickly realizing the danger. "If you tries to set your horses it will mean your death!"
And well was it that the old Indian fighter had given the advice.
With feet braced stiff, the ponies struck the ground.
There was a snapping and cracking and the poor beasts sank down, their legs broken by the awful force of the impact.
Yet even as they fell, the outlaws, prepared by the warning of Comanche Tony, shot over their heads, landing in the bushes unscathed save for scratches and the jolting they received as they struck.
And as they picked themselves up, they heard the captain of the troopers roar:
"Find the horses! Jesse and the bunch'll be near 'em. No man could take that plunge and come out whole."
"That's where your wrong, old top," grinned the world-world famous desperado. "Quick boys! drop on your hands and knees! We'll work up the ravine a couple of rods from the ponies and then strike for the side from which they jumped. Careful, now, we won the race. But if the troopers or Injuns get their peepers on one of us, its death to the whole bunch!"
Hurriedly the outlaws dropped to all fours and resumed their hazardous attempt at escape.
The bushes that grew in the ravine, fortunately for them, were of sufficient height to conceal their bodies as they advanced. Yet mere concealment, they knew, was not sufficient to insure their safety.
Should the keen eyes of soldiers or savages detect a suspicious movement among the brushwood, the hue and cry would instantly be raised.
And, aware of this full well, the six sorely pressed bandits crawled with infinite stealth.
So near were the troopers that the creaking of their saddle leathers was audible, followed almost instantly by the snapping and cracking of twigs and bushes as the horses picked their way gingerly down the steep side of the ravine.