I yelled to the boys and
jumped for the end of the bridge. But I was too late. The bridge
balanced for an instant, and then the end on which the boys were
standing started to sink. Nebraska saw what was coming, off and jumped
for the ledge on which we were standing. He missed it by five feet.
There wasn't a sound from his lips as he shot down into the awful
blackness of the canyon. I got sick and dizzy, but not so sick that I
couldn't see what was happening to Taylor. Taylor didn't jump for the
ledge. He turned like a cat and grabbed a rail of the bridge, trying
to climb back to the level. He'd have made it, too, but the Toltecs
wouldn't let him. They jabbed at him with their spears and arrows and
threw knives at him. One of the knives struck him in the shoulder, and
when I heard him scream I pulled my guns and began to shoot across the
canyon. I hadn't thought of it before; there are times when a man's
brain refuses to work like he'd like to have it. But the Toltecs
didn't mind the shooting a little bit.
"Three or four of them got hit and backed away from the edge of the
canyon, but there were enough others to do what they were trying to do,
and they did it. I stood there, helpless, and saw them shove Taylor
off the bridge with their spears. When he finally let go and went
turning over and over down into the black hole, my whole insides fanned
up into my throat.
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