Desert Gold..........................................................................................................................................................1

Zane Grey .................................................................................................................................................1

A FACE haunted Camerona woman's face. It was there in the white heart of the dying campfire; it hung in

the shadows that hovered over the flickering light; it drifted in the darkness beyond.

This hour, when the day had closed and the lonely desert night set in with its dead silence, was one in which

Cameron's mind was thronged with memories of a time long pastof a home back in Peoria, of a woman he

had wronged and lost, and loved too late. He was a prospector for gold, a hunter of solitude, a lover of the

A sound disturbed Cameron's reflections. He bent his head listening. A soft wind fanned the paling embers,

blew sparks and white ashes and thin smoke away into the enshrouding circle of blackness. His burro did not

appear to be moving about. The quiet split to the cry of a coyote. It rose strange, wild, mournfulnot the

howl of a prowling upland beast baying the campfire or barking at a lonely prospector, but the wail of a wolf,

fullvoiced, crying out the meaning of the desert and the night. Hunger throbbed in ithunger for a mate,

for offspring, for life. When it ceased, the terrible desert silence smote Cameron, and the cry echoed in his

Then a sharp clink of metal on stone and soft pads of hoofs in sand prompted Cameron to reach for his gun,

and to move out of the light of waning campfire. He was somewhere along the wild border line between

Sonora and Arizona; and the prospector who dared the heat and barrenness of that region risked other dangers

Figures darker than the gloom approached and took shape, and in the light turned out to be those of a white

"Hello there," the man called, as he came to a halt and gazed about him. "I saw your fire. May I make camp

Cameron came forth out of the shadow and greeted his visitor, whom he took for a prospector like himself.

Cameron resented the breaking of his lonely campfire vigil, but he respected the law of the desert.

The stranger thanked him, and then slipped the pack from his burro. Then he rolled out his pack and began

Cameron watched him, still with resentment, yet with a curious and growing interest. The campfire burst into

a bright blaze, and by its light Cameron saw a man whose gray hair somehow did not seem to make him old,

and whose stooped shoulders did not detract from an impression of rugged strength.

His visitor looked up quickly, as if startled by the sound of a human voice. He replied, and then the two men

talked a little. But the stranger evidently preferred silence. Cameron understood that. He laughed grimly and

bent a keener gaze upon the furrowed, shadowy face. Another of those strange desert prospectors in whom

there was some relentless driving power besides the lust for gold! Cameron felt that between this man and

himself there was a subtle affinity, vague and undefined, perhaps born of the divination that here was a desert

wanderer like himself, perhaps born of a deeper, an unintelligible relation having its roots back in the past. A

longforgotten sensation stirred in Cameron's breast, one so long forgotten that he could recognize it. But it

When he awakened he found, to his surprise, that his companion had departed. A trail in the sand led off to

the north. There was no water in that direction. Cameron shrugged his shoulders; it was not his affair; he had

Cameron began his day, grateful for the solitude that was now unbroken, for the canyonfurrowed and

cactusspired scene that now showed no sign of life. He traveled southwest, never straying far from the dry

stream bed; and in a desultory way, without eagerness, he hunted for signs of gold.

The work was toilsome, yet the periods of rest in which he indulged were not taken because of fatigue. He

rested to look, to listen, to feel. What the vast silent world meant to him had always been a mystical thing,

That day, while it was yet light, and he was digging in a moist whitebordered wash for water, he was

brought sharply up by hearing the crack of hard hoofs on stone. There down the canyon came a man and a

"Hello, friend," called the man, halting. "Our trails crossed again. That's good."

They made camp together, ate their frugal meal, smoked a pipe, and rolled in their blankets without

exchanging many words. In the morning the same reticence, the same aloofness characterized the manner of

both. But Cameron's companion, when he had packed his burro and was ready to start, faced about and said:

"You're alone; I'm alone," said the other, mildly. "It's a big place. If we find gold there'll be enough for two."

"I don't go down into the desert for gold alone," rejoined Cameron, with a chill note in his swift reply.

His companion's deepset, luminous eyes emitted a singular flash. It moved Cameron to say that in the years

of his wandering he had met no man who could endure equally with him the blasting heat, the blinding dust

storms, the wilderness of sand and rock and lava and cactus, the terrible silence and desolation of the desert.

Cameron waved a hand toward the wide, shimmering, shadowy descent of plain and range. "I may strike

through the Sonora Desert. I may head for Pinacate or north for the Colorado Basin. You are an old man."

"I don't know the country, but to me one place is the same as another," replied his companion. for moments

he seemed to forget himself, and swept his farreaching gaze out over the colored gulf of stone and sand.

Then with gentle slaps he drove his burro in behind Cameron. "Yes, I'm old. I'm lonely, too. It's come to me

just lately. but, friend, I can still travel, and for a few days my company won't hurt you."

They began a slow march down into the desert. At sunset they camped under the lee of a low mesa. Cameron

was glad his comrade had the Indian habit of silence. Another day's travel found the prospectors deep in the

wilderness. Then there came a breaking of reserve, noticeable in the elder man, almost imperceptibly gradual

in Cameron. Beside the meager mesquite campfire this grayfaced, thoughtful old prospector would remove

his black pipe from his mouth to talk a little; and Cameron would listen, and sometimes unlock his lips to

speak a word. And so, as Cameron began to respond to the influence of a desert less lonely than habitual, he

began to take keener note of his comrade, and found him different from any other he had ever encountered in

the wilderness. This man never grumbled at the heat, the glare, the driving sand, the sour water, the scant

fare. During the daylight hours he was seldom idle. At night he sat dreaming before the fire or paced to and

fro in the gloom. He slept but little, and that long after Cameron had had his own rest. He was tireless,

Cameron's awakened interest brought home to him the realization that for years he had shunned

companionship. In those years only three men had wandered into the desert with him, and these had left their

bones to bleach in the shifting sands. Cameron had not cared to know their secrets. But the more he studied

this latest comrade the more he began to suspect that he might have missed something in the others. In his

own driving passion to take his secret into the limitless abode of silence and desolation, where he could be

alone with it, he had forgotten that life dealt shocks to other men. Somehow this silent comrade reminded

One afternoon late, after they had toiled up a white, winding wash of sand and gravel, they came upon a dry

waterhole. Cameron dug deep into the sand, but without avail. He was turning to retrace weary steps back to

the last water when his comrade asked him to wait. Cameron watched him search in his pack and bring forth

what appeared to be a small, forked branch of a peach tree. He grasped the prongs of the fork and held them

before him with the end standing straight out, and then he began to walk along the stream bed. Cameron, at

first amused, then amazed, then pitying, and at last curious, kept pace with the prospector. He saw a strong

tension of his comrade's wrists, as if he was holding hard against a considerable force. The end of the peach

branch began to quiver and turn. Cameron reached out a hand to touch it, and was astounded at feeling a

powerful vibrant force pulling the branch downward. He felt it as a magnetic shock. The branch kept turning,

Then Cameron stood by while his comrade dug in the sand. Three feet he dugfourfive, and the sand

Cameron complied, and saw his comrade drop the basket into the deep hole, where it kept the sides from

caving in and allowed the water to seep through. While Cameron watched, the basket filled. Of all the strange

incidents of his desert career this was the strangest. Curiously he picked up the peach branch and held it as he

"A power to find water that way. Back in Illinois an old German used to do that to locate wells. He showed

me I had the same power. I can't explain. But you needn't look so dumfounded. There's nothing supernatural

"You mean it's a simple factthat some men have a magnetism, a force or power to find water as you did?"

"Yes. It's not unusual on the farms back in Illinois, Ohio, Pennsylvania. The old German I spoke of made

They entered a region where mineral abounded, and their march became slower. Generally they took the

course of a wash, one on each side, and let the burros travel leisurely along nipping at the bleached blades of

scant grass, or at sage or cactus, while they searched in the canyons and under the ledges for signs of gold.

When they found any rock that hinted of gold they picked off a piece and gave it a chemical test. The search

was fascinating. They interspersed the work with long, restful moments when they looked afar down the vast

reaches and smoky shingles to the line of dim mountains. Some impelling desire, not all the lure of gold, took

them to the top of mesas and escarpments; and here, when they had dug and picked, they rested and gazed out

at the wide prospect. Then, as the sun lost its heat and sank lowering to dent its red disk behind fardistant

spurs, they halted in a shady canyon or likely spot in a dry wash and tried for water. When they found it they

unpacked, gave drink to the tired burros, and turned them loose. Dead mesquite served for the campfire.

While the strange twilight deepened into weird night they sat propped against stones, with eyes on the dying

embers of the fire, and soon they lay on the sand with the light of white stars on their dark faces.

Each succeeding day and night Cameron felt himself more and more drawn to this strange man. He found that

after hours of burning toil he had insensibly grown nearer to his comrade. He reflected that after a few weeks

in the desert he had always become a different man. In civilization, in the rough mining camps, he had been a

prey to unrest and gloom. but once down on the great billowing sweep of this lonely world, he could look

into his unquiet soul without bitterness. Did not the desert magnify men? Cameron believed that wild men in

wild places, fighting cold, heat, starvation, thirst, barrenness, facing the elements in all their ferocity, usually

retrograded, descended to the savage, lost all heart and soul and became mere brutes. Likewise he believed

that men wandering or lost in the wilderness often reversed that brutal order of life and became noble,

wonderful, superhuman. So now he did not marvel at a slow stir stealing warmer along his veins, and at the

premonition that perhaps he and this man, alone on the desert, driven there by life's mysterious and

His companion was one who thought of himself last. It humiliated Cameron that in spite of growing keenness

he could not hinder him from doing more than an equal share of the day's work. The man was mild, gentle,

quiet, mostly silent, yet under all his softness he seemed to be made of the fiber of steel. Cameron could not

thwart him. Moreover, he appeared to want to find gold for Cameron, not for himself. Cameron's hands

always trembled at the turning of rock that promised gold; he had enough of the prospector's passion for

fortune to thrill at the chance of a strike. But the other never showed the least trace of excitement.

One night they were encamped at the head of a canyon. The day had been exceedingly hot, and long after

sundown the radiation of heat from the rocks persisted. A desert bird whistled a wild, melancholy note from a

dark cliff, and a distant coyote wailed mournfully. The stars shone white until the huge moon rose to burn out

all their whiteness. And on this night Cameron watched his comrade, and yielded to interest he had not

"Ah!" softly exclaimed Cameron. Always he seemed to have known that. He said no more. He watched the

old man rise and begin his nightly pace to and fro, up and down. With slow, soft tread, forward and back,

tirelessly and ceaselessly, he paced that beat. He did not look up at the stars or follow the radiant track of the

moon along the canyon ramparts. He hung his head. He was lost in another world. It was a world which the

lonely desert made real. He looked a dark, sad, plodding figure, and somehow impressed Cameron with the

Cameron grew acutely conscious of the pang in his own breast, of the fire in his heart, the strife and torment

of his passiondriven soul. He had come into the desert to remember a woman. She appeared to him then as

she had looked when first she entered his lifea goldenhaired girl, blueeyed, whiteskinned, redlipped,

tall and slender and beautiful. He had never forgotten, and an old, sickening remorse knocked at his heart. He

rose and climbed out of the canyon and to the top of a mesa, where he paced to and fro and looked down into

the weird and mystic shadows, like the darkness of his passion, and farther on down the moon track and the

glittering stretches that vanished in the cold, blue horizon. The moon soared radiant and calm, the white stars

shone serene. The vault of heaven seemed illimitable and divine. The desert surrounded him, silverstreaked

and blackmantled, a chaos of rock and sand, silent, austere, ancient, always waiting. It spoke to Cameron. It

was a naked corpse, but it had a soul. In that wild solitude the white stars looked down upon him pitilessly

and pityingly. They had shone upon a desert that might once have been alive and was now dead, and might

again throb with life, only to die. It was a terrible ordeal for him to stand along and realize that he was only a

man facing eternity. But that was what gave him strength to endure. Somehow he was a part of it all, some

atom in that vastness, somehow necessary to an inscrutable purpose, something indestructible in that desolate

world of ruin and death and decay, something perishable and changeable and growing under all the fixity of

heaven. In that endless, silent hall of desert there was a spirit; and Cameron felt hovering near him what he

"I reckon we're two of a kind," he said. "It was a woman who drove me into the desert. But I come to

A long silence ensued. A cool wind blew up the canyon, sifting the sand through the dry sage, driving away

"I had a daughter," said Cameron's comrade. "She lost her mother at birth. And II didn't know how to bring

His words were peculiarly significant to Cameron. They distressed him. He had been wrapped up in his

remorse. If ever in the past he had thought of any one connected with the girl he had wronged he had long

forgotten. But the consequences of such wrong were farreaching. They struck at the roots of a home. Here

in the desert he was confronted by the spectacle of a splendid man, a father, wasting his life because he could

not forgetbecause there was nothing left to live for. Cameron understood better now why his comrade was

"It was the old, old story. My girl was pretty and free. The young bucks ran after her. I guess she did not run

away from them. And I was away a good dealworking in another town. She was in love with a wild fellow.

I knew nothing of it till too late. He was engaged to marry her. But he didn't come back. And when the

disgrace became plain to all, my girl left home. She went West. After a while I heard from her. She was

wellworkingliving for her baby. A long time passed. I had no ties. I drifted West. Her lover had also

gone West. In those days everybody went West. I trailed him, intending to kill him. But I lost his trail.

Neither could I find any trace of her. She had moved on, driven, no doubt, by the hound of her past. Since

"Yes, it's the old, old story, only sadder, I think," said Cameron; and his voice was strained and unnatural.

That name might as well have been a bullet. Cameron stood erect, motionless, as men sometimes stand

momentarily when shot straight through the heart. In an instant, when thoughts resurged like blinding flashes

of lightning through his mind, he was a swaying, quivering, terrorstricken man. He mumbled something

hoarsely and backed into the shadow. But he need not have feared discovery, however surely his agitation

might have betrayed him. Warren sat brooding over the campfire, oblivious of his comrade, absorbed in the

Cameron swiftly walked away in the gloom, with the blood thrumming thick in his ears, whispering over and

As thought and feeling multiplied, Cameron was overwhelmed. Beyond belief, indeed, was it that out of the

millions of men in the world two who had never seen each other could have been driven into the desert by

memory of the same woman. It brought the past so close. It showed Cameron how inevitably all his spiritual

life was governed by what had happened long ago. That which made life significant to him was a wandering

in silent places where no eye could see him with his secret. Some fateful chance had thrown him with the

father of the girl he had wrecked. It was incomprehensible; it was terrible. It was the one thing of all possible

happenings in the world of chance that both father and lover would have found unendurable.

Cameron's pain reached to despair when he felt this relation between Warren and himself. Something within

him cried out to him to reveal his identity. Warren would kill him; but it was not fear of death that put

Cameron on the rack. He had faced death too often to be afraid. It was the thought of adding torture to this

longsuffering man. All at once Cameron swore that he would not augment Warren's trouble, or let him stain

his hands with blood. He would tell the truth of Nell's sad story and his own, and make what amends he

Then Cameron's thought shifted from father to daughter. She was somewhere beyond the dim horizon line. In

those past lonely hours by the campfire his fancy had tortured him with pictures of Nell. But his remorseful

and cruel fancy had lied to him. Nell had struggled upward out of menacing depths. She had reconstructed a

broken life. And now she was fighting for the name and happiness of her child. Little Nell! Cameron

experienced a shuddering ripple in all his beingthe physical rack of an emotion born of a new and strange

As Cameron gazed out over the bloodred, darkening desert suddenly the strife in his soul ceased. The

moment was one of incalculable change, in which his eyes seemed to pierce the vastness of cloud and range,

and mystery of gloom and shadowto see with strong vision the illimitable space before him. He felt the

grandeur of the desert, its simplicity, its truth. He had learned at last the lesson it taught. No longer strange

was his meeting and wandering with Warren. Each had marched in the steps of destiny; and as the lines of

their fates had been inextricably tangled in the years that were gone, so now their steps had crossed and

turned them toward one common goal. For years they had been two men marching alone, answering to an

inward driving search, and the desert had brought them together. For years they had wandered alone in

silence and solitude, where the sun burned white all day and the stars burned white all night, blindly

following the whisper of a spirit. But now Cameron knew that he was no longer blind, and in this flash of

He returned to camp trying to evolve a plan. As always at that long hour when the afterglow of sunset

lingered in the west, Warren plodded to and fro in the gloom. All night Cameron lay awake thinking.

In the morning, when Warren brought the burros to camp and began preparations for the usual packing,

"Pardner, your story last night made me think. I want to tell you something about myself. It's hard enough to

be driven by sorrow for one you've loved, as you've been driven; but to suffer sleepless and eternal remorse

for the ruin of one you've loved as I have sufferedthat is hell. . . .Listen. In my younger daysit seems

long now, yet it's not so many yearsI was wild. I wronged the sweetest and loveliest girl I ever knew. I

went away not dreaming that any disgrace might come to her. Along about that time I fell into terrible

moodsI changedI learned I really loved her. Then came a letter I should have gotten months before. It

told of her troubleimportuned me to hurry to save her. Half frantic with shame and fear, I got a marriage

certificate and rushed back to her town. She was gonehad been gone for weeks, and her disgrace was

known. Friends warned me to keep out of reach of her father. I trailed her found her. I married her. But too

late!...She would not live with me. She left meI followed her west, but never found her."

Warren leaned forward a little and looked into Cameron's eyes, as if searching there for the repentance that

"You know, of course, how men out here somehow lose old names, old identities. It won't surprise you much

Warren stiffened upright. It seemed that there might have been a blank, a suspension, between his grave

Cameron felt his heart bulge and contract in his breast; all his body grew cold; and it took tremendous effort

The old man rose and towered over Cameron, and then plunged down upon him, and clutched at his throat

with terrible stifling hands. The harsh contact, the pain awakened Cameron to his peril before it was too late.

Desperate fighting saved him from being hurled to the ground and stamped and crushed. Warren seemed a

maddened giant. There was a reeling, swaying, wrestling struggle before the elder man began to weaken. The

"Warrenhold on! Give mea minute. I married Nell. Didn't you know that?...I saved the child!

Cameron felt the shock that vibrated through Warren. He repeated the words again and again. As if

compelled by some resistless power, Warren released Cameron, and, staggering back, stood with uplifted,

"Warren! Waitlisten!" panted Cameron. "I've got that marriage certificateI've had it by me all these

Cameron stole off among the rocks. How long he absented himself or what he did he had no idea. When he

returned Warren was sitting before the campfire, and once more he appeared composed. He spoke, and his

Cameron experienced a singular exaltation. He had lightened his comrade's burden. Wonderfully it came to

him that he had also lightened his own. From that hour it was not torment to think of Nell. Walking with his

comrade through the silent places, lying beside him under the serene luminous light of the stars, Cameron

began to feel the haunting presence of invisible things that were real to himphantoms whispering peace. In

the moan of the cool wind, in the silken seep of sifting sand, in the distant rumble of a slipping ledge, in the

faint rush of a shooting star he heard these phantoms of peace coming with whispers of the long pain of men

at the last made endurable. Even in the white noonday, under the burning sun, these phantoms came to be real

to him. In the dead silence of the midnight hours he heard them breathing nearer on the desert windnature's

There came a morning when the sun shone angry and red through a dull, smoky haze.

They had scarcely covered a mile when a desertwide, moaning, yellow wall of flying sand swooped down

upon them. Seeking shelter in the lee of a rock, they waited, hoping the storm was only a squall, such as

frequently whipped across the open places. The moan increased to a roar, and the dull red slowly dimmed, to

disappear in the yellow pall, and the air grew thick and dark. Warren slipped the packs from the burros.

Cameron feared the sandstorms had arrived some weeks ahead of their usual season.

The men covered their heads and patiently waited. The long hours dragged, and the storm increased in fury.

Cameron and Warren wet scarfs with water from their canteens, and bound them round their faces, and then

covered their heads. The steady, hollow bellow of flying sand went on. It flew so thickly that enough sifted

down under the shelving rock to weight the blankets and almost bury the men. They were frequently

compelled to shake off the sand to keep from being borne to the ground. And it was necessary to keep

digging out the packs. The floor of their shelter gradually rose higher and higher. they tried to eat, and

seemed to be grinding only sand between their teeth. They lost the count of time. They dared not sleep, for

that would have meant being buried alive. The could only crouch close to the leaning rock, shake off the

sand, blindly dig out their packs, and every moment gasp and cough and choke to fight suffocation.

The storm finally blew itself out. It left the prospectors heavy and stupid for want of sleep. Their burros had

wandered away, or had been buried in the sand. Far as eye could reach the desert had marvelously changed; it

was now a rippling sea of sand dunes. Away to the north rose the peak that was their only guiding mark. They

At noon the peak vanished in the shimmering glare of the desert. The prospectors pushed on, guided by the

sun. In every wash they tried for water. With the forked peach branch in his hands Warren always succeeded

in locating water. They dug, but it lay too deep. At length, spent and sore, they fell and slept through that

night and part of the next day. Then they succeeded in getting water, and quenched their thirst, and filled the

The burning day found them in an interminably wide plain, where there was no shelter from the fierce sun.

The men were exceedingly careful with their water, though there was absolute necessity of drinking a little

every hour. Late in the afternoon they came to a canyon that they believed was the lower end of the one in

which they had last found water. For hours they traveled toward its head, and, long after night had set, found

what they sought. Yielding to exhaustion, they slept, and next day were loath to leave the waterhole. Cool

Morning told Cameron that they had turned back miles into the desert, and it was desert new to him. The red

sun, the increasing heat, and especially the variety and large size of the cactus plants warned Cameron that he

had descended to a lower level. Mountain peaks loomed on all sides, some near, others distant; and one, a

blue spur, splitting the glaring sky far to the north, Cameron thought he recognized as a landmark. The ascent

toward it was heartbreaking, not in steepness, but in its leagueandleaguelong monotonous rise. Cameron

knew there was only one hopeto make the water hold out and never stop to rest. Warren began to weaken.

Often he had to halt. The burning white day passed, and likewise the night, with its white stars shining so

Cameron measured the water in his canteen by its weight. Evaporation by heat consumed as much as he

drank. During one of the rests, when he had wetted his parched mouth and throat, he found opportunity to

At first Cameron had curbed his restless activity to accommodate the pace of his elder comrade. But now he

felt that he was losing something of his instinctive and passionate zeal to get out of the desert. The thought of

water came to occupy his mind. He began to imagine that his last little store of water did not appreciably

diminish. He knew he was not quite right in his mind regarding water; nevertheless, he felt this to be more of

When next they rested he pretended to be in a kind of stupor; but he covertly watched Warren. The man

appeared far gone, yet he had cunning. He cautiously took up Cameron's canteen and poured water into it

This troubled Cameron. The old irritation at not being able to thwart Warren returned to him. Cameron

reflected, and concluded that he had been unwise not to expect this very thing. Then, as his comrade dropped

into weary rest, he lifted both canteens. If there were any water in Warren's, it was only very little. Both men

had been enduring the terrible desert thirst, concealing it, each giving his water to the other, and the sacrifice

Instead of ministering to the parched throats of one or both, the water had evaporated. When Cameron made

sure of this, he took one more drink, the last, and poured the little water left into Warren's canteen. He threw

The day opened for them in a red and green hell of rock and cactus. Like a flame the sun scorched and peeled

their faces. Warren went blind from the glare, and Cameron had to lead him. At last Warren plunged down,

Cameron rested and waited, hopeless, with hot, weary eyes gazing down from the height where he sat. The

ledge was the top step of a ragged gigantic stairway. Below stretched a sad, austere, and lonely valley. A dim,

wide streak, lighter than the bordering gray, wound down the valley floor. Once a river had flowed there,

Movement on the part of Warren attracted Cameron's attention. Evidently the old prospector had recovered

his sight and some of his strength. for he had arisen, and now began to walk along the arroyo bed with his

forked peach branch held before him. He had clung to the precious bit of wood. Cameron considered the

prospect for water hopeless, because he saw that the arroyo had once been a canyon, and had been filled with

sands by desert winds. Warren, however, stopped in a deep pit, and, cutting his canteen in half, began to use

one side of it as a scoop. He scooped out a wide hollow, so wide that Cameron was certain he had gone crazy.

Cameron gently urged him to stop, and then forcibly tried to make him. But these efforts were futile. Warren

worked with slow, ceaseless, methodical movement. He toiled for what seemed hours. Cameron, seeing the

darkening, dampening sand, realized a wonderful possibility of water, and he plunged into the pit with the

other half of the canteen. Then both men toiled, round and round the wide hole, down deeper and deeper. The

sand grew moist, then wet. At the bottom of the deep pit the sand coarsened, gave place to gravel. Finally

water welled in, a stronger volume than Cameron ever remembered finding on the desert. It would soon fill

the hole and run over. He marveled at the circumstance. The time was near the end of the dry season. Perhaps

an underground stream flowed from the range behind down to the valley floor, and at this point came near to

The finding of water revived Cameron's flagging hopes. But they were shortlived. Warren had spend

Then he fell. Cameron dragged him out of the sand pit to a sheltered place under the ledge. While sitting

beside the failing man Cameron discovered painted images on the wall. Often in the desert he had found these

evidences of a prehistoric people. Then, from long habit, he picked up a piece of rock and examined it. Its

weight made him closely scrutinize it. The color was a peculiar black. He scraped through the black rust to

find a piece of gold. Around him lay scattered heaps of black pebbles and bits of black, weathered rock and

Cameron gazed down the gray reaches of the forlorn valley, and something within him that was neither

Then Cameron built up stone monuments to mark his gold strike. That done, he tarried beside the

unconscious Warren. Moments passedgrew into hours. Cameron still had strength left to make an effort to

get out of the desert. But that same inscrutable something which had ordered his strange involuntary promise

to Warren held him beside his fallen comrade. He watched the white sun turn to gold, and then to red and

sink behind mountains in the west. Twilight stole into the arroyo. It lingered, slowly turning to gloom. The

vault of blue black lightened to the blinking of stars. Then fell the serene, silent, luminous desert night.

Cameron kept his vigil. As the long hours wore on he felt creep over him the comforting sense that he need

not forever fight sleep. A wan glow flared behind the dark, uneven horizon, and a melancholy misshapen

moon rose to make the white night one of shadows. Absolute silence claimed the desert. It was mute. Then

that inscrutable something breathed to him, telling him when he was alone. He need not have looked at the

Another face haunted Cameron'sa woman's face. It was there in the white moonlit shadows; it drifted in

the darkness beyond; it softened, changed to that of a young girl, sweet, with the same dark, haunting eyes of

her mother. Cameron prayed to that nameless thing within him, the spirit of something deep and mystical as

life. He prayed to that nameless thing outside, of which the rocks and the sand, the spiked cactus and the

ragged lava, the endless waste, with its vast starfired mantle, were but atoms. He prayed for mercy to a

womanfor happiness to her child. Both mother and daughter were close to him then. Time and distance

were annihilated. He had faithhe saw into the future. The fateful threads of the past, so inextricably woven

Cameron then took a little tin box from his pocket, and, opening it, removed a folded certificate. He had kept

a pen, and now he wrote something upon the paper, and in lieu of ink he wrote with blood. The moon

afforded him enough light to see; and, having replaced the paper, he laid the little box upon a shelf of rock. It

would remain there unaffected by dust, moisture, heat, time. How long had those painted images been there

clear and sharp on the dry stone walls? There were no trails in that desert, and always there were incalculable

changes. Cameron saw this mutable mood of naturethe sands would fly and seep and carve and bury; the

floods would dig and cut; the ledges would weather in the heat and rain; the avalanches would slide; the

cactus seeds would roll in the wind to catch in a niche and split the soil with thirsty roots. Years would pass.

Cameron seemed to see them, too; and likewise destiny leading a child down into this forlorn waste, where

Cameron covered the dark, still face of his comrade from the light of the waning moon.

That action was the severing of his hold on realities. They fell away from him in final separation. Vaguely,

dreamily he seemed to behold his soul. Night merged into gray day; and night came again, weird and dark.

Then up out of the vast void of the desert, from the silence and illimitableness, trooped his phantoms of

peace. Majestically they formed around him, marshalling and mustering in ceremonious state, and moved to

RICHARD GALE reflected that his sojourn in the West had been what his disgusted father had

It was reflection such as this, only more serious and perhaps somewhat desperate, that had brought Gale

down to the border. For some time the newspapers had been printing news of Mexican revolution, guerrilla

warfare, United States cavalry patrolling the international line, American cowboys fighting with the rebels,

and wild stories of bold raiders and bandits. But as opportunity, and adventure, too, had apparently given him

a wide berth in Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, he had struck southwest for the Arizona border, where he

hoped to see some stirring life. He did not care very much what happened. Months of futile wandering in the

hope of finding a place where he fitted had inclined Richard to his father's opinion.

It was after dark one evening in early October when Richard arrived in Casita. He was surprised to find that it

was evidently a town of importance. There was a jostling, jabbering, sombreroed crowd of Mexicans around

the railroad station. He felt as if he were in a foreign country. After a while he saw several men of his

nationality, one of whom he engaged to carry his luggage to a hotel. They walked up a wide, welllighted

street lined with buildings in which were bright windows. Of the many people encountered by Gale most

were Mexicans. His guide explained that the smaller half of Casita lay in Arizona, the other half in Mexico,

and of several thousand inhabitants the majority belonged on the southern side of the street, which was the

boundary line. He also said that rebels had entered the town that day, causing a good deal of excitement.

Gale was almost at the end of his financial resources, which fact occasioned him to turn away from a

pretentious hotel and to ask his guide for a cheaper lodginghouse. When this was found, a sight of the

loungers in the office, and also a desire for comfort, persuaded Gale to change his travelingclothes for rough

"Well, I'm almost broke," he soliloquized, thoughtfully. "The governor said I wouldn't make any money. He's

rightso far. And he said I'd be coming home beaten. There he's wrong. I've got a hunch that something 'll

He went out into a wide, whitewashed, highceiled corridor, and from that into an immense room which, but

for pool tables, bar, benches, would have been like a courtyard. The floor was cobblestoned, the walls were of

adobe, and the large windows opened like doors. A blue cloud of smoke filled the place. Gale heard the click

of pool balls and the clink of glasses along the crowded bar. Barelegged, sandalfooted Mexicans in white

rubbed shoulders with Mexicans mantled in black and red. There were others in tightfitting blue uniforms

with gold fringe or tassels at the shoulders. These men wore belts with heavy, bonehandled guns, and

evidently were the rurales, or native policemen. There were blackbearded, coarsevisaged Americans, some

gambling round the little tables, others drinking. The pool tables were the center of a noisy crowd of younger

men, several of whom were unsteady on their feet. There were khakiclad cavalrymen strutting in and out.

At one end of the room, somewhat apart from the general meelee, was a group of six men round a little table,

four of whom were seated, the other two standing. These last two drew a second glance from Gale. The

sharpfeatured, bronzed faces and piercing eyes, the tall, slender, loosely jointed bodies, the quiet, easy,

reckless air that seemed to be a part of the menthese things would plainly have stamped them as cowboys

without the buckled sombreros, the colored scarfs, the hightopped, highheeled boots with great

silverroweled spurs. Gale did not fail to note, also, that these cowboys wore guns, and this fact was rather a

shock to his idea of the modern West. It caused him to give some credence to the rumors of fighting along the

He satisfied his hunger in a restaurant adjoining, and as he stepped back into the saloon a man wearing a

military cape jostled him. Apologies from both were instant. Gale was moving on when the other stopped

He could not see the stranger's face, because it was wholly shaded by a widebrimmed hat pulled well down.

"I've heard your voice somewhere," replied Gale. "Maybe I'll recognize you if you come out from under that

For answer the man, suddenly manifesting thought of himself, hurriedly drew Gale into the restaurant, where

"'Ssssh. You needn't yell," interrupted the other, as he met Gale's outstretched hand. There was a close,

hard, straining grip. "I must not be recognized here. There are reasons. I'll explain in a minute. Say, but it's

fine to see you! Five years, Dick, five years since I saw you run down University Field and spreadeagle the

"Don't recollect that," replied Dick, laughing. "George, I'll bet you I'm gladder to see you than you are to see

"I did. I'm here now with the Ninth Cavalry. Butnever mind me. What're you doing way down here? Say, I

just noticed your togs. Dick, you can't be going in for mining or ranching, not in this Godforsaken desert?"

"Well, that beats me!" ejaculated Thorne, sitting back in his chair, amaze and concern in his expression.

"What the devil's wrong? Your old man's got too much money for you ever to be up against it. Dick, you

A tide of emotion surged over Gale. How good it was to meet a friendsome one to whom to talk! He had

"George, how I ever drifted down here I don't know. I didn't exactly quarrel with the governor. Butdamn it,

Dad hurt meshamed me, and I dug out for the West. It was this way. After leaving college I tried to please

him by tackling one thing after another that he set me to do. On the square, I had no head for business. I made

a mess of everything. The governor got sore. He kept ramming the harpoon into me till I just couldn't stand it.

What little ability I possessed deserted me when I got my back up, and there you are. Dad and I had a rather

uncomfortable half hour. When I quitwhen I told him straight out that I was going West to fare for myself,

why, it wouldn't have been so tough if he hadn't laughed at me. He called me a rich man's sonan idle,

easygoing spineless swell. He said I didn't even have character enough to be out and out bad. He said I

didn't have sense enough to marry one of the nice girls in my sister's crowd. He said I couldn't get back home

unless I sent to him for money. He said he didn't believe I could fightcould really make a fight for anything

Dick dropped his head upon his hands, somewhat ashamed of the smarting dimness in his eyes. He had not

"Fight!" cried Thorne, hotly. "What's ailing him? Didn't they call you Biff Gale in college? Dick, you were

one of the best men Stagg ever developed. I heard him say sothat you were the fastest,

"The governor didn't count football," said Dick. "He didn't mean that kind of fight. When I left home I don't

think I had an idea what was wrong with me. But, George, I think I know now. I was a rich man's

sonspoiled, dependent, absolutely ignorant of the value of money. I haven't yet discovered any earning

capacity in me. I seem to be unable to do anything with my hands. That's the trouble. But I'm at the end of my

tether now. And I'm going to punch cattle or be a miner, or do some real stuntlike joining the rebels."

"Aha! I thought you'd spring that last one on me," declared Thorne, wagging his head. "Well, you just forget

it. Say, old boy, there's something doing in Mexico. The United States in general doesn't realize it. But across

that line there are crazy revolutionists, illpaid soldiers, guerrilla leaders, raiders, robbers, outlaws, bandits

galore, starving peons by the thousand, girls and women in terror. Mexico is like some of her

volcanoesready to erupt fire and hell! Don't make the awful mistake of joining rebel forces. Americans are

hated by Mexicans of the lower class the fighting class, both rebel and federal. Half the time these crazy

Greasers are on one side, then on the other. If you didn't starve or get shot in ambush, or die of thirst, some

Greaser would knife you in the back for you belt buckle or boots. There are a good many Americans with the

rebels eastward toward Agua, Prieta and Juarez. Orozco is operating in Chihuahua, and I guess he has some

idea of warfare. But this Sonora, a mountainous desert, the home of the slave and the Yaqui. There's

unorganized revolt everywhere. The American miners and ranchers, those who could get away, have fled

across into the States, leaving property. Those who couldn't or wouldn't come must fight for their lives, are

"That's bad," said Gale. "It's news to me. Why doesn't the government take action, do something?"

"Afraid of international complications. Don't want to offend the Maderists, or be criticized by jealous foreign

nations. It's a delicate situation, Dick. The Washington officials know the gravity of it, you can bet. But the

United States in general is in the dark, and the armywell, you ought to hear the inside talk back at San

Antonio. We're patrolling the boundary line. We're making a grand bluff. I could tell you of a dozen instances

where cavalry should have pursued raiders on the other side of the line. But we won't do it. The officers are a

grouchy lot these days. You see, of course, what significance would attach to United States cavalry going into

Mexican territory. There would simply be hell. My own colonel is the sorest man on the job. We're all sore.

It's like sitting on a powder magazine. We can't keep the rebels and raiders from crossing the line. Yet we

don't fight. My commission expires soon. I'll be discharged in three months. You can bet I'm glad for more

Thorne was evidently laboring under strong, suppressed excitement. His face showed pale under the tan, and

his eyes gleamed with a dark fire. Occasionally his delight at meeting, talking with Gale, dominated the other

emotions, but not for long. He had seated himself at a table near one of the doorlike windows leading into the

street, and every little while he would glance sharply out. Also he kept consulting his watch.

"George, it strikes me that you're upset," said Dick, presently. "I seem to remember you as a coolheaded

Thorne laughed. It was a laugh with a strange, high note. It was recklessit hinted of exaltation. He rose

abruptly; he gave the water money to go for drinks; he looked into the saloon, and then into the street. On this

side of the house there was a porch opening on a plaza with trees and shrubbery and branches. Thorne peered

out one window, then another. His actions were rapid. Returning to the table, he put his hands upon it and

"Serious? For me, if I'm discovered, it means ruin. There are rebels in town. Any moment we might have

trouble. I ought to be ready for dutywithin call. If I'm discovered it means arrest. That means delaythe

Gale was silenced by his friend's intensity. Thorne bent over closer with his dark eyes searching bright.

"What would you say, Dick Gale, if I told you that you're the one man I'd rather have had come along than

The earnest gaze, the passionate voice with its deep tremor drew Dick upright, thrilling and eager, conscious

Their hands locked for a moment, and they sat down again with heads close over the table.

"Listen," began Thorne, in low, swift whisper, "a few days, a week agoit seems like a year!I was of

some assistance to refugees fleeing from Mexico into the States. They were all women, and one of them was

dressed as a nun. Quite by accident I saw her face. It was that of a beautiful girl. I observed she kept aloof

from the others. I suspected a disguise, and, when opportunity afforded, spoke to her, offered my services.

She replied to my poor efforts at Spanish in fluent English. She had fled in terror from her home, some place

down in Sinaloa. Rebels are active there. Her father was captured and held for ransom. When the ransom was

paid the rebels killed him. The leader of these rebels was a bandit named Rojas. Long before the revolution

began he had been feared by people of classloved by the peons. Bandits are worshiped by the peons. All of

the famous bandits have robbed the rich and given to the poor. Rojas saw the daughter, made off with her.

But she contrived to bribe her guards, and escaped almost immediately before any harm befell her. She hid

among friends. Rojas nearly tore down the town in his efforts to find her. Then she disguised herself, and

"Her story fascinated me, and that one fleeting glimpse I had of her face I couldn't forget. She had no friends

here, no money. She knew Rojas was trailing her. This talk I had with her was at the railroad station, where

all was bustle and confusion. No one noticed us, so I thought. I advised her to remove the disguise of a nun

before she left the waitingroom. And I got a boy to guide her. But he fetched her to his house. I had

"I found her, Dick, and when I saw herI went stark, staring, raving mad over her. She is the most beautiful,

wonderful girl I ever saw. Her name is Mercedes Castaneda, and she belongs to one of the old wealthy

Spanish families. She has lived abroad and in Havana. She speaks French as well as English. She isbut I

"Dick, think, think! With Mercedes also it was love at first sight. My plan is to marry her and get her farther

to the interior, away from the border. It may not be easy. She's watched. So am I. It was impossible to see her

without the women of this house knowing. At first, perhaps, they had only curiosityan itch to gossip. But

the last two days there has been a change. Since last night there's some powerful influence at work. Oh, these

Mexicans are subtle, mysterious! After all, they are Spaniards. They work in secret, in the dark. They are

dominated first by religion, then by gold, then by passion for a woman. Rojas must have got word to his

friends here; yesterday his gang of cutthroat rebels arrived, and today he came. When I learned that, I took

my chance and left camp I hunted up a priest. He promised to come here. It's time he's due. But I'm afraid

"Thorne, why don't you take the girl and get married without waiting, without running these risks?" said

"I fear it's too late now. I should have done that last night. You see, we're over the line"

"I guess yes, old boy. That's what complicates it. Rojas and his rebels have Casita in their hands. But Rojas

without his rebels would be able to stop me, get the girl, and make for his mountain haunts. If Mercedes is

really watchedif her identity is known, which I am sure is the casewe couldn't get far from this house

"Good Heavens! Thorne, can that sort of thing happen less than a stone's throw from the United States line?"

"It can happen, and don't you forget it. You don't seem to realize the power these guerrilla leaders, these rebel

captains, and particularly these bandits, exercise over the mass of Mexicans. A bandit is a man of honor in

Mexico. He is feared, envied, loved. In the hearts of the people he stands next to the national idolthe

bullfighter, the matador. The race has a wild, barbarian, bloody strain. Take Quinteros, for instance. He was

a peon, a slave. He became a famous bandit. At the outbreak of the revolution he proclaimed himself a leader,

and with a band of followers he devastated whole counties. The opposition to federal forces was only a blind

to rob and riot and carry off women. The motto of this man and his followers was: 'Let us enjoy ourselves

"There are other bandits besides Quinteros, not so famous or such great leaders, but just as bloodthirsty. I've

seen Rojas. He's a handsome, bold sneering devil, vainer than any peacock. He decks himself in gold lace and

sliver trappings, in all the finery he can steal. He was one of the rebels who helped sack Sinaloa and carry off

half a million in money and valuables. Rojas spends gold like he spills blood. But he is chiefly famous for

abducting women. the peon girls consider it an honor to be ridden off with. Rojas has shown a penchant for

Thorne wiped the perspiration from his pale face and bent a dark gaze out of the window before he resumed

"Consider what the position of Mercedes really is. I can't get any help from our side of the line. If so, I don't

know where. The population on that side is mostly Mexican, absolutely in sympathy with whatever actuates

those on this side. The whole caboodle of Greasers on both sides belong to the class in sympathy with the

rebels, the class that secretly respects men like Rojas, and hates an aristocrat like Mercedes. They would

conspire to throw her into his power. Rojas can turn all the hidden underground influences to his ends. Unless

I thwart him he'll get Mercedes as easily as he can light a cigarette. But I'll kill him or some of his gang or her

before I let him get her. . . . This is the situation, old friend. I've little time to spare. I face arrest for desertion.

Rojas is in town. I think I was followed to this hotel. The priest has betrayed me or has been stopped.

Mercedes is here alone, waiting, absolutely dependent upon me to save her fromfrom....She's the sweetest,

loveliest girl!...In a few momentssooner or later there'll be hell here! Dick, are you with me?"

Dick Gale drew a long, deep breath. A coldness, a lethargy, an indifference that had weighed upon him for

months had passed out of his being. On the instant he could not speak, but his hand closed powerfully upon

his friend's. Thorne's face changed wonderfully, the distress, the fear, the appeal all vanishing in a smile of

Then Dick's gaze, attracted by some slight sound, shot over his friend's shoulder to see a face at the

windowa handsome, bold, sneering face, with glittering dark eyes that flashed in sinister intentness.

Dick stiffened in his seat. Thorne, with sudden clenching of hands, wheeled toward the window.

THE dark face vanished. Dick Gale heard footsteps and the tinkle of spurs. He strode to the window, and was

in time to see a Mexican swagger into the front door of the saloon. Dick had only a glimpse; but in that he

saw a huge black sombrero with a gaudy band, the back of a short, tightfitting jacket, a heavy pearlhandled

gun swinging with a fringe of sash, and closefitting trousers spreading wide at the bottom. There were men

passing in the street, also several Mexicans lounging against the hitchingrail at the curb.

"Did you see him? Where did he go?" whispered Thorne, as he joined Gale. "Those Greasers out there with

"I think he went into the saloon," replied Dick. "He had a gun, but for all I can see the Greasers out there are

"Never believe it! There! Look, Dick! That fellow's a guard, though he seems so unconcerned. See, he has a

short carbine, almost concealed....There's another Greaser farther down the path. I'm afraid Rojas has the

"I'm sure, Dick. Let's cross the hall; I want to see how it looks from the other side of the house."

Gale followed Thorne out of the restaurant into the highceiled corridor which evidently divided the hotel,

opening into the street and running back to a patio. A few dim, yellow lamps flickered. A Mexican with a

blanket round his shoulders stood in the front entrance. Back toward the patio there were sounds of boots on

the stone floor. Shadows flitted across that end of the corridor. Thorne entered a huge chamber which was

even more poorly lighted than the hall. It contained a table littered with papers, a few highbacked chairs, a

"Mercedes has been meeting me here," said thorne. "At this hour she comes every moment or so to the head

of the stairs there, and if I am here she comes down. Mostly there are people in this room a little later. We go

out into the plaza. It faces the dark side of the house, and that's the place I must slip out with her if there's any

They peered out of the open window. The plaza was gloomy, and at first glance apparently deserted. In a

moment, however, Gale made out a slowpacing dark form on the path. Farther down there was another. No

particular keenness was required to see in these forms a sentinellike stealthiness.

"You saw them," he whispered. "It's just as I feared. Rojas has the place surrounded. I should have taken

Mercedes away. But I had no timeno chance! I'm bound!...There's Mercedes now! My God!...Dick,

Gale turned as his friend went down the room. In the dim light at the head of the stairs stood the slim,

muffled figure of a woman. When she saw Thorne she flew noiselessly down the stairway to him. He caught

her in his arms. Then she spoke softly, brokenly, in a low, swift voice. It was a mingling of incoherent

Spanish and English; but to Gale it was mellow, deep, unutterably tender, a voice full of joy, fear, passion,

hope, and love. Upon Gale it had an unaccountable effect. He found himself thrilling, wondering.

Thorne led the girl to the center of the room, under the light where Gale stood. She had raised a white hand,

holding a blacklaced mantilla half aside. Dick saw a small, dark head, proudly held, an oval face half

She swept the mantilla back over her head, disclosing a lovely face, strange and striking to Gale in its pride

"Yes, Mercedes; my friend and yours," said Thorne, speaking rapidly. "We'll have need of him. Dear, there's

bad news and no time to break it gently. the priest did not come. He must have been detained. And listenbe

She uttered an inarticulate cry, the poignant terror of which shook Gale's nerve, and swayed as if she would

"My darling! For God's sake don't faintdon't go to pieces! We'd be lost! We've got a chance. We'll think of

It was plain to Gale that Thorne was distracted. He scarcely knew what he was saying. Pale and shaking, he

clasped Mercedes to him. Her terror had struck him helpless. It was so intenseit was so full of horrible

She cried out in Spanish, beseeching him; and as he shook his head, she changed to English:

"Senor, my lover, I will be strongI will fightI will obey. But swear by my Virgin, if need be to save me

"Mercedes! Yes, I'll swear," he replied hoarsely. "I knowI'd rather have you dead than But don't give

up. Rojas can't be sure of you, or he wouldn't wait. He's in there. He's got his men thereall around us. But

he hesitates. A beast like Rojas doesn't stand idle for nothing. I tell you we've a chance. Dick, here, will think

of something. We'll slip away. Then he'll take you somewhere. Onlyspeak to himshow him you won't

weaken. Mercedes, this is more than love and happiness for us. It's life or death."

Suddenly she wheeled to face Gale with proud dark eyes, tragic sweetness of appeal, and exquisite grace.

"Senor, you are an American. You cannot know the Spanish bloodthe peon bandit's hate and cruelty. I

wish to die before Rojas's hand touches me. If he takes me alive, then the hour, the little day that my life lasts

afterward will be torturedtorture of hell. If I live two days his brutal men will have me. If I live three, the

dogs of his camp...Senor, have you a sister whom you love? Help Senor Thorne to save me. He is a soldier.

He is bound. He must not betray his honor, his duty, for me....Ah, you two splendid Americansso big, so

strong, so fierce! What is that little black halfbreed slave Rojas to such men? Rojas is a coward. Now, let

She came close to Gale, holding out her white hands, a woman all fire and soul and passion. to Gale she was

wonderful. His heart leaped. As he bent over her hands and kissed them he seemed to feel himself renewed,

"Senorita," he said, "I am happy to be your servant. I can conceive of no greater pleasure than giving the

"That of incapacitating Senor Rojas for tonight, and perhaps several nights to come," replied Gale.

"I'll make a row in that saloon," returned Dick, bluntly. "I'll start something. I'll rush Rojas and his crowd.

"Lord, no; you mustn't, Dickyou'll be knifed!" cried Thorne. He was in distress, yet his eyes were shining.

"I'll take a chance. Maybe I can surprise that slow Greaser bunch and get away before they know what's

happened....You be ready watching at the window. When the row starts those fellows out there in the plaza

will run into the saloon. Then you slip out, go straight through the plaza down the street. It's a dark street, I

Thorne gasped, but did not say a word. Mercedes leaned against him, her white hands now at her breast, her

In the corridor Gale stopped long enough to pull on a pair of heavy gloves, to muss his hair, and disarrange

his collar. Then he stepped into the restaurant, went through, and halted in the door leading into the saloon.

His five feet eleven inches and one hundred and eighty pounds were more noticeable there, and it was part of

his plan to attract attention to himself. No one, however, appeared to notice him. The poolplayers were

noisily intent on their game, the same crowd of motleyrobed Mexicans hung over the reeking bar. Gale's

roving glance soon fixed upon the man he took to be Rojas. He recognized the huge, highpeaked, black

sombrero with its ornamented band. The Mexican's face was turned aside. He was in earnest, excited

colloquy with a dozen or more comrades, most of whom were sitting round a table. They were listening,

talking, drinking. The fact that they wore cartridge belts crossed over their breasts satisfied that these were

the rebels. He had noted the belts of the Mexicans outside, who were apparently guards. A waiter brought

more drinks to this group at the table, and this caused the leader to turn so Gale could see his face. It was

indeed the sinister, sneering face of the bandit Rojas. Gale gazed at the man with curiosity. He was under

medium height, and striking in appearance only because of his dandified dress and evil visage. He wore a

lace scarf, a tight, brightbuttoned jacket, a buckskin vest embroidered in red, a sash and belt joined by an

enormous silver clasp. Gale saw again the pearlhandled gun swinging at the bandit's hip. Jewels flashed in

Gale became conscious of an inward fire that threatened to overrun his coolness. Other emotions harried his

selfcontrol. It seemed as if sight of the man liberated or created a devil in Gale. And at the bottom of his

feelings there seemed to be a wonder at himself, a strange satisfaction for the something that had come to

He stepped out of the doorway, down the couple of steps to the floor of the saloon, and he staggered a little,

simulating drunkenness. He fell over the pool tables, jostled Mexicans at the bar, laughed like a maudlin fool,

and, with his hat slouched down, crowded here and there. Presently his eye caught sight of the group of

They were still in a corner somewhat isolated. With fertile mind working, Gale lurched over to them. He

remembered his many unsuccessful attempts to get acquainted with cowboys. If he were to get any help from

these silent aloof rangers it must be by striking fire from them in one swift stroke. Planting himself squarely

before the two tall cowboys who were standing, he looked straight into their lean, bronzed faces. He spared a

"I'm not drunk. I'm throwing a bluff, and I mean to start a rough house. I'm going to rush that damned bandit

Rojas. It's to save a girlto give her lover, who is my friend, a chance to escape with her. When I start a row

my friend will try to slip out with her. Every door and window is watched. I've got to raise hell to draw the

guards in.... Well, you're my countrymen. We're in Mexico. A beautiful girl's honor and life are at stake.

One cowboy's eyes narrowed, blinking a little, and his lean jaw dropped; the other's hard face rippled with a

Gale backed away, and his pulse leaped when he saw the two cowboys, as if with one purpose, slowly stride

after him. Then Gale swerved, staggering along, brushed against the tables, kicked over the empty chairs. He

passed Rojas and his gang, and out of the tail of his eye saw that the bandit was watching him, waving his

hands and talking fiercely. The hum of the many voices grew louder, and when Dick lurched against a table,

overturning it and spilling glasses into the laps of several Mexicans, there arose a shrill cry. He had

succeeded in attracting attention; almost every face turned his way. One of the insulted men, a little tawny

fellow, leaped up to confront Gale, and in a frenzy screamed a volley of Spanish, of which Gale distinguished

"Gringo!" The Mexican stamped and made a threatening move with his right hand. Dick swung his leg and

with a swift side kick knocked the fellows feet from under him, whirling him down with a thud.

The action was performed so suddenly, so adroitly, it made the Mexican such a weakling, so like a tumbled

tenpin, that the shrill jabbering hushed. Gale knew this to be the significant moment.

Wheeling, he rushed at Rojas. It was his old linebreaking plunge. Neither Rojas nor his men had time to

move. The blackskinned bandit's face turned a dirty white; his jaw dropped; he would have shrieked if Gale

had not hit him. The blow swept him backward against his men. Then Gale's heavy body, swiftly following

with the momentum of that rush, struck the little group of rebels. They went down with table and chairs in a

Gale carried by his plunge, went with them. Like a cat he landed on top. As he rose his powerful hands

fastened on Rojas. He jerked the little bandit off the tangled pile of struggling, yelling men, and, swinging

him with terrific force, let go his hold. Rojas slid along the floor, knocking over tables and chairs. Gale

A shot rang out above the yells. Gale heard the jingle of breaking glass. The room darkened perceptibly. He

flashed a glance backward. The two cowboys were between him and the crowd of frantic rebels. One cowboy

held two guns low down, level in front of him. The other had his gun raised and aimed. On the instant it

spouted red and white. With the crack came the crashing of glass, another darkening shade over the room.

With a cry Gale slung the bleeding Rojas from him. The bandit struck a table, toppled over it, fell, and lay

Another shot made the room full of moving shadows, with light only back of the bar. A whiteclad figure

rushed at Gale. He tripped the man, but had to kick hard to disengage himself from grasping hands. Another

figure closed in on Gale. This one was dark, swift. A blade glinteddescribed a circle alot. Simultaneously

with a close, red flash the knife wavered; the man wielding it stumbled backward. In the din Gale did not hear

a report, but the Mexican's fall was significant. Then pandemonium broke loose. The din became a roar. Gale

heard shots that sounded like dull spats in the distance. The big lamp behind the bar seemingly split, then

Gale leaped toward the restaurant door, which was outlined faintly by the yellow light within. Right and left

he pushed the groping men who jostled with him. He vaulted a pool table, sent tables and chairs flying, and

gained the door, to be the first of a wedging mob to squeeze through. One sweep of his arm knocked the

restaurant lamp from its stand; and he ran out, leaving darkness behind him. A few bounds took him into the

It was then Gale slowed up. For the space of perhaps sixty seconds he had been moving with startling

velocity. He peered cautiously out into the plaza. The paths, the benches, the shady places under the trees

contained no skulking men. He ran out, keeping to the shade, and did not go into the path till he was halfway

through the plaza. Under a street lamp at the far end of the path he thought he saw two dark figures. He ran

faster, and soon reached the street. The uproar back in the hotel began to diminish, or else he was getting out

of hearing. The few people he saw close at hand were all coming his way, and only the foremost showed any

excitement. Gale walked swiftly, peering ahead for two figures. Presently he saw themone tall, wearing a

cape; the other slight, mantled. Gale drew a sharp breath of relief. Throne and Mercedes were not far ahead.

From time to time Thorne looked back. He strode swiftly, almost carrying Mercedes, who clung closely to

him. She, too, looked back. Once Gale saw her white face flash in the light of a street lamp. He began to

overhaul them; and soon, when the last lamp had been passed and the street was dark, he ventured a whistle.

Thorne heard it, for he turned, whistled a low reply, and went on. Not for some distance beyond, where the

street ended in open country, did they halt to wait. The desert began here. Gale felt the soft sand under his

"Good! Good!" choked Thorne. "I was scaredhelpless....Dick, it worked splendidly. We had no trouble.

"Good Heavens! It was like a row I once heard made by a mob. But the shots, Dickwere they at you? They

paralyzed me. Then the yells. what happened? Those guards of Rojas ran round in front at the first shot. Tell

"While I was rushing Rojas a couple of cowboys shot out the lamplights. A Mexican who pulled a knife on

me got hurt, I guess. Then I think there was some shooting from the rebels after the room was dark."

"Rushing Rojas?" queried Thorne, leaning close to Dick. His voice was thrilling, exultant, deep with a joy

"I handed him one off side, tackled, then tried a forward pass," replied Dick, lightly speaking the football

Thorne leaned closer, his fine face showing fierce and corded in the starlight. "Tell me straight," he

Gale then divined something of the suffering Thorne had undergone something of the hot, wild, vengeful

It stilled Dick's lighter mood, and he was about to reply when Mercedes pressed close to him, touched his

hands, looked up into his face with wonderful eyes. He thought he would not soon forget their beautythe

"Dear lady," said Gale, with voice not wholly steady, "Rojas himself will hound you no more tonight, nor

She seemed to shake, to thrill, to rise with the intelligence. She pressed his hand close over her heaving

"Senor! Senor Dick!" she cried. Then her voice failed. But her hands flew up; quick as a flash she raised her

There ensued a silence broken only by Mercedes' sobbing. Gale walked some paces away. If he were not

stunned, he certainly was agitated. the strange, sweet fire of that girl's lips remained with him. On the spur of

the moment he imagined he had a jealousy of Thorne. But presently this passed. It was only that he had been

deeply movedstirred to the depths during the last hourhad become conscious of the awakening of a

spirit. What remained with him now was the splendid glow of gladness that he had been of service to Thorne.

And by the intensity of Mercedes' abandon of relief and gratitude he measured her agony of terror and the

"Dick, Dick, come here!" called Thorne softly. "Let's pull ourselves together now. We've got a problem yet.

What to do? Where to go? How to get any place? We don't dare risk the stationthe corrals where Mexicans

hire out horses. We're on good old U.S. ground this minute, but we're not out of danger."

As he paused, evidently hoping for a suggestion from Gale, the silence was broken by the clear, ringing peal

of a bugle. Thorne gave a violent start. Then he bent over, listening. The beautiful notes of the bugle floated

Gale had no answer to make. Mercedes stood as if stricken. The bugle call ended. From a distance another

faintly pealed. There were other sounds too remote to recognize. Then scattering shots rattled out.

"Dick, the rebels are fighting somebody," burst out Thorne, excitedly. "The little federal garrison still holds

its stand. Perhaps it is attacked again. Anyway, there's something doing over the line. Maybe the crazy

Greasers are firing on our camp. We've feared itin the dark....And here I am, away without

"Better make tracks, Thorne," added Gale. "It can't help our predicament for you to be arrested. I'll take care

"That'd be all right for the immediate present. But it's not best for the future. George, a deserter is a

"Dick, I'm up against it," he said. "You're right. If only I can get back in time. But, oh, I hate to leave her! Old

fellow, you've saved her! I already owe you everlasting gratitude. Keep out of Casita, Dick. The U.S. side

might be safe, but I'm afraid to trust it at night. Go out in the desert, up in the mountains, in some safe place.

Then come to me in camp. We'll plan. I'll have to confide in Colonel Weede. Maybe he'll help us. Hide her

He wrung Dick's hand, clasped Mercedes tightly in his arms, kissed her, and murmured low over her, then

released her to rush off into the darkness. He disappeared in the gloom. The sound of his dull footfalls

For a moment the desert silence oppressed Gale. He was unaccustomed to such strange stillness. There was a

low stir of sand, a rustle of stiff leaves in the wind. How white the stars burned! Then a coyote barked, to be

bayed by a dog. Gale realized that he was between the edge of an unknown desert and the edge of a hostile

town. He had to choose the desert, because, though he had no doubt that in Casita there were many

Americans who might befriend him, he could not chance the risks of seeking them at night.

He felt a slight touch on his arm, felt it move down, felt Mercedes slip a trembling cold little hand into his.

Dick looked at her. She seemed a whitefaced girl now, with staring, frightened black eyes that flashed up at

him. If the loneliness, the silence, the desert, the unknown dangers of the night affected him, what must they

be to this hunted, driven girl? Gale's heart swelled. He was alone with her. He had no weapon, no money, no

food, no drink, no covering, nothing except his two hands. He had absolutely no knowledge of the desert, of

the direction or whereabouts of the boundary line between the republics; he did not know where to find the

railroad, or any road or trail, or whether or not there were towns near or far. It was a critical, desperate

situation. He thought first of the girl, and groaned in spirit, prayed that it would be given him to save her.

When he remembered himself it was with the stunning consciousness that he could conceive of no situation

which he would have exchanged for this onewhere fortune had set him a perilous task of loyalty to a

"Senor, senor!" suddenly whispered Mercedes, clinging to him. "Listen! I hear horses coming!"

UNEASY and startled, Gale listened and, hearing nothing, wondered if Mercedes's fears had not worked

upon her imagination. He felt a trembling seize her, and he held her hands tightly.

Dick turned his ear to the soft wind. Presently he heard, or imagined he heard, low beats. Like the first faint,

faroff beats of a drumming grouse, they recalled to him the Illinois forests of his boyhood. In a moment he

was certain the sounds were the padlike steps of hoofs in yielding sand. The regular tramp was not that of

On the instant, made cautious and stealthy by alarm, Gale drew Mercedes deeper into the gloom of the

shrubbery. Sharp pricks from thorns warned him that he was pressing into a cactus growth, and he protected

Mercedes as best he could. She was shaking as one with a sever chill. She breathed with little hurried pants

and leaned upon him almost in collapse. Gale ground his teeth in helpless rage at the girl's fate. If she had not

been beautiful she might still have been free and happy in her home. What a strange world to live inhow

The sounds of hoofbeats grew louder. Gale made out a dark moving mass against a background of dull gray.

There was a line of horses. He could not discern whether or not all the horses carried riders. The murmur of a

voice struck his earthen a low laugh. It made him tingle, for it sounded American. Eagerly he listened.

"It shore was, Laddy, it shore was," came a voice out of the darkness. "Rough house! Laddy, since wire

fences drove us out of Texas we ain't seen the like of that. An' we never had such a call."

"Call? It was a burnin' roast," replied another voice. "I felt low down. He vamoosed some sudden, an' I hope

Gale jumped up in joy. What luck! The speakers were none other than the two cowboys whom he had

The horses snorted and stamped. Then followed swift rustling soundsa clinking of spurs, then silence. The

figures loomed clearer in the gloom.. Gale saw five or six horses, two with riders, and one other, at least,

carrying a pack. When Gale got within fifteen feet of the group the foremost horseman said:

"You'd recognize me, if it wasn't so dark," replied Gale, halting. "I spoke to you a little while agoin the

Gale advanced till he was close to the horse. The cowboy leaned over the saddle and peered into Gale's face.

Then, without a word, he sheathed the gun and held out his hand. Gale met a grip of steel that warmed his

blood. The other cowboy got off his nervous, spirited horse and threw the bridle. He, too, peered closely into

Gale felt another grip as hard and strong as the other had been. He realized he had found friends who

"GaleDick Gale is my name," he began, swiftly. "I dropped into Casita tonight hardly knowing where I

was. A boy took me to that hotel. There I met an old friend whom I had not seen for years. He belongs to the

cavalry stationed here. He had befriended a Spanish girlfallen in love with her. Rojas had killed this girl's

fathertried to abduct her....You know what took place at the hotel. Gentlemen, if it's ever possible, I'll

show you how I appreciate what you did for me there. I got away, found my friend with the girl. We hurried

out here beyond the edge of town. Then Thorne had to make a break for camp. We heard bugle calls, shots,

and he was away without leave. That left the girl with me. I don't know what to do. Thorne swears Casita is

"No. Her name is Castaneda. She belongs to an old Spanish family, once rich and influential."

"Reckoned as much," replied the cowboy. "There's more than Rojas's wantin' to kidnap a pretty girl. Shore he

does that every day or so. Must be somethin' political or feelin' against class. Well, Casita ain't no place for

your friend's girl at night or day, or any time. Shore, there's Americans who'd take her in an' fight for her, if

"It's been gettin' hotter round this Greaser corral for some weeks," replied the other cowboy. "If that twobit

of a garrison surrenders, there's no tellin' what'll happen. Orozco is headin' west from Agua Prieta with his

guerrillas. Campo is burnin' bridges an' tearin' up the railroad south of Nogales. Then there's all these bandits

callin' themselves revolutionists just for an excuse to steal, burn, kill, an' ride off with women. It's plain facts,

Laddy, an' bein' across the U.S. line a few inches or so don't make no hell of a difference. My advice is, don't

"Looks like you've shore spoke sense," said Ladd. "I reckon, Gale, you an' the girl ought to come with us.

Casita shore would be a little warm for us tomorrow. We didn't kill anybody, but I shot a Greaser's arm off,

an' Lash strained friendly relations by destroyin' property. We know people who'll take care of the senorita

Dick warmly spoke his gratefulness, and, inexpressibly relieved and happy for Mercedes, he went toward the

clump of cactus where he had left her. She stood erect, waiting, and, dark as it was, he could tell she had lost

"I've been lucky to fall in with these men, and I'm glad with all my heart," he replied. "Come."

He led her into the road up to the cowboys, who now stood bareheaded in the starlight. The seemed shy, and

Lash was silent while Ladd made embarrassed, unintelligible reply to Mercedes's's thanks.

There were five horsestwo saddled, two packed, and the remaining one carried only a blanket. Ladd

shortened the stirrups on his mount, and helped Mercedes up into the saddle. From the way she settled herself

and took the few restive prances of the mettlesome horse Gale judged that she could ride. Lash urged Gale to

They tried again to persuade him, without avail. Then Ladd started off, riding bareback. Mercedes fell in

behind, with Gale walking beside her. The two pack animals came next, and Lash brought up the rear.

Once started with protection assured for the girl and a real objective point in view, Gale relaxed from the

tense strain he had been laboring under. How glad he would have been to acquaint Thorne with their good

fortune! Later, of course, there would be some way to get word to the cavalryman. But till then what torments

It seemed to Dick that a very long time had elapsed since he stepped off the train; and one by one he went

over every detail of incident which had occurred between that arrival and the present moment. Strange as the

facts were, he had no doubts. He realized that before that night he had never known the deeps of wrath

undisturbed in him; he had never conceived even a passing idea that it was possible for him to try to kill a

man. His right hand was swollen stiff, so sore that he could scarcely close it. His knuckles were bruised and

bleeding, and ached with a sharp pain. Considering the thickness of his heavy glove, Gale was of the opinion

that so to bruise his hand he must have struck Rojas a powerful blow. He remembered that for him to give or

take a blow had been nothing. This blow to Rojas, however, had been a different matter. The hot wrath which

had been his motive was not puzzling; but the effect on him after he had cooled off, a subtle difference,

something puzzled and eluded him. The more it baffled him the more he pondered. All those wandering

months of his had been filled with dissatisfaction, yet he had been too apathetic to understand himself. So he

had not been much of a person to try. Perhaps it had not been the blow to Rojas any more than other things

His meeting with Thorne; the wonderful black eyes of a Spanish girl; her appeal to him; the hate inspired by

Rojas, and the rush, the blow, the action; sight of Thorne and Mercedes hurrying safely away; the girl's hand

pressing his to her heaving breast; the sweet fire of her kiss; the fact of her being alone with him, dependent

upon him all these things Gale turned over and over in his mind, only to fail of any definite conclusion as

to which had affect him so remarkably, or to tell what had really happened to him.

Had he fallen in love with Thorne's sweetheart? The idea came in a flash. Was he, all in an instant, and by

one of those incomprehensible reversals of character, jealous of his friend? Dick was almost afraid to look up

at Mercedes. Still he forced himself to do so, and as it chanced Mercedes was looking down at him.

Somehow the light was better, and he clearly saw her white face, her black and starry eyes, her perfect mouth.

With a quick, graceful impulsiveness she put her hand upon his shoulder. Like her appearance, the action was

new, strange, striking to Gale; but it brought home suddenly to him the nature of gratitude and affection in a

girl of her blood. It was sweet and sisterly. He knew then that he had not fallen in love with her. The feeling

that was akin to jealousy seemed to be of the beautiful something for which Mercedes stood in Thorne's life.

Gale then grasped the bewildering possibilities, the infinite wonder of what a girl could mean to a man.

The other haunting intimations of change seemed to be elusively blended with sensationsthe heat and thrill

of action, the sense of something done and more to do, the utter vanishing of an old weary hunt for he knew

not what. Maybe it had been a hunt for work, for energy, for spirit, for love, for his real self. Whatever it

The desert began to lighten. Gray openings in the border of shrubby growths changed to paler hue. The road

could be seen some rods ahead, and it had become a stony descent down, steadily down. Dark, ridged backs

of mountains bounded the horizon, and all seemed near at hand, hemming in the plain. In the east a white

glow grew brighter and brighter, reaching up to a line of cloud, defined sharply below by a rugged notched

range. Presently a silver circle rose behind the black mountain, and the gloom of the desert underwent a

transformation. From a gray mantle it changed to a transparent haze. The moon was rising.

Dick had been carrying his coat upon his arm. He had felt warm, even hot, and had imagined that the steady

walk had occasioned it. But his skin was cool. The heat came from an inward burning. He stopped the horse

"I should have thought of you," he said. "But I seemed to feel warm . . . The coat's a little large; we might

Mercedes smiled and lightly thanked him in Spanish. The flash of mood was in direct contrast to the

appealing, passionate, and tragic states in which he had successively viewed her; and it gave him a vivid

impression of what vivacity and charm she might possess under happy conditions. He was about to start when

he observed that Ladd had halted and was peering ahead in evident caution. Mercedes' horse began to stamp

A warning "hist!" from Ladd bade Dick to put a quieting hand on the horse. Lash came noiselessly forward to

An uneasy yet thrilling stir ran through Gale's veins. This scene was not fancy. These men of the ranges had

heard or seen or scented danger. It was all real, as tangible and sure as the touch of Mercedes's hand upon his

arm. Probably for her the night had terrors beyond Gale's power to comprehend. He looked down into the

desert, and would have felt no surprise at anything hidden away among the bristling cactus, the dark, winding

arroyos, the shadowed rocks with their moonlit tips, the ragged plain leading to the black bold mountains.

The wind appeared to blow softly, with an almost imperceptible moan, over the desert. That was a new sound

Presently Lash went to the rear and Ladd started ahead. The progress now, however, was considerably

slower, not owing to a roadfor that became betterbut probably owing to caution exercised by the

cowboy guide. At the end of a half hour this marked deliberation changed, and the horses followed Ladd's at

Meanwhile the moon soared high above the black corrugated peaks. The gray, the gloom, the shadow

whitened. The clearing of the dark foreground appeared to lift a distant veil and show endless aisles of desert

Gale gazed abroad, knowing that as this night was the first time for him to awake to consciousness of a

vague, wonderful other self, so it was one wherein he began to be aware of an encroaching presence of

physical thingsthe immensity of the starstudded sky, the soaring moon, the bleak, mysterious mountains,

and limitless slope, and plain, and ridge, and valley. These things in all their magnificence had not been

unnoticed by him before; only now they spoke a different meaning. A voice that he had never heard called

him to see, to feel the vast hard externals of heaven and earth, all that represented the open, the free, silence

Once more his thoughts, like his steps, were halted by Ladd's actions. The cowboy reined in his horse,

listened a moment, then swung down out of the saddle. He raised a cautioning hand to the others, then slipped

into the gloom and disappeared. Gale marked that the halt had been made in a ridged and cutup pass

between low mesas. He could see the columns of cactus standing out black against the moonwhite sky. The

horses were evidently tiring, for they showed no impatience. Gale heard their panting breaths, and also the

bark of some animala dog or a coyote. It sounded like a dog, and this led Gale to wonder if there was any

house near at hand. To the right, up under the ledges some distance away, stood two square black objects, too

uniform, he thought, to be rocks. While he was peering at them, uncertain what to think, the shrill whistle of a

horse pealed out, to be followed by the rattling of hoofs on hard stone. Then a dog barked. At the same

moment that Ladd hurriedly appeared in the road a light shone out and danced before one of the square black

"Keep close an' don't make no noise," he whispered, and led his horse at right angles off the road.

Gale followed, leading Mercedes's horse. As he turned he observed that Lash also had dismounted.

To keep closely at Ladd's heels without brushing the cactus or stumbling over rocks and depressions was a

task Gale found impossible. After he had been stabbed several times by the bayonetlike spikes, which seemed

invisible, the matter of caution became equally one of selfpreservation. Both the cowboys, Dick had

observed, wore leather chaps. It was no easy matter to lead a spirited horse through the dark, winding lanes

walled by thorns. Mercedes horse often balked and had to be coaxed and carefully guided. Dick concluded

that Ladd was making a wide detour. The position of certain stars grown familiar during the march veered

round from one side to another. Dick saw that the travel was fast, but by no means noiseless. The pack

animals at times crashed and ripped through the narrow places. It seemed to Gale that any one within a mile

could have heard these sounds. From the tops of knolls or ridges he looked back, trying to locate the mesas

where the light had danced and the dog had barked alarm. He could not distinguish these two rocky

Presently Ladd let out into a wider lane that appeared to run straight. The cowboy mounted his horse, and this

fact convinced Gale that they had circled back to the road. The march proceeded then once more at a good,

steady, silent walk. When Dick consulted his watch he was amazed to see that the hour was till early. How

much had happened in little time! He now began to be aware that the night was growing colder; and, strange

to him, he felt something damp that in a country he knew he would have recognized as dew. He had not been

aware there was dew on the desert. The wind blew stronger, the stars shone whiter, the sky grew darker, and

the moon climbed toward the zenith. The road stretched level for miles, then crossed arroyos and ridges,

wound between mounds of broken ruined rock, found a level again, and then began a long ascent. Dick asked

Mercedes if she was cold, and she answered that she was, speaking especially of her feet, which were

growing numb. Then she asked to be helped down to walk awhile. At first she was cold and lame, and

accepted the helping hand Dick proffered. After a little, however, she recovered and went on without

assistance. Dick could scarcely believe his eyes, as from time to time he stole a sidelong glance at this silent

girl, who walked with lithe and rapid stride. She was wrapped in his long coat, yet it did not hide her slender

A lowspoken word from Ladd recalled Gale to the question of surroundings and of possible dangers. Ladd

had halted a few yards ahead. They had reached the summit of what was evidently a high ridge which sloped

with much greater steepness on the far side. It was only after a few more forward steps, however, that Dick

could see down the slope. Then full in view flashed a bright campfire around which clustered a group of dark

figures. They were encamped in a wide arroyo, where horses could be seen grazing in black patches of grass

between clusters of trees. A second look at the campers told Gale they were Mexicans. At this moment Lash

came forward to join Ladd, and the two spend a long, uninterrupted moment studying the arroyo. A hoarse

"Well, Laddy, what're you makin' of that outfit?" inquired Lash, speaking softly.

"Same as any of them raider outfits," replied Ladd. "They're across the line for beef. But they'll run off any

good stock. As hoss thieves these rebels have got 'em all beat. That outfit is waitin' till it's late. There's a

"Sure, I feel the same," said Ladd. "But we've got a girl an' the young man to look after, not to mention our

pack outfit. An' we're huntin' for a job, not a fight, old hoss. Keep on your chaps!"

"You're talkin' sense now, Jim. I wish we'd headed that way long ago. But it ain't strange I'd want to travel

away from the border, thinkin' of the girl. Jim, we can't go round this Greaser outfit an' strike the road again.

"Perhaps it's just as well, Laddy. Rio Forlorn is on the border line, but it's country where these rebels ain't

"Wait till they learn of the oasis an' Beldin's hosses!" exclaimed Laddy. "I'm not anticipatin' peace anywhere

"What'll we do, Laddy" It's a hike to Beldin's ranch. An' if we get there in daylight some Greaser will see the

girl before Beldin' can hide her. It'll get talked about. The news'll travel to Casita like sage balls before the

"Shore we won't ride into Rio Forlorn in the daytime. Let's slip the packs, Jim. We can hid them off in the

The whispering was interrupted by a loud ringing neigh that whistled up from the arroyo. One of the horses

had scented the travelers on the ridge top. The indifference of the Mexicans changed to attention.

Ladd and Lash turned back and led the horses into the first opening on the south side of the road. There was

nothing more said at the moment, and manifestly the cowboys were in a hurry. Gale had to run in the open

places to keep up. When they did stop it was welcome to Gale, for he had begun to fall behind.

The packs were slipped, securely tied and hidden in a mesquite clump. Ladd strapped a blanket around one of

"Gale, you're wearin' boots, an' by liftin' your feet you can beat the cactus," he whispered. "But

thetheMiss Castaneda, she'll be torn all to pieces unless she puts these on. Please tell heran' hurry."

Dick took the caps, and, going up to Mercedes, he explained the situation. She laughed, evidently at his

Deftly and promptly she equipped herself, and then Gale helped her into the saddle, called to her horse, and

Dick had not ridden a hundred yards behind the trotting leaders before he had sundry painful encounters with

reaching cactus arms. The horse missed these by a narrow margin. Dick's knees appeared to be in line, and it

be came necessary for him to lift them high and let his boots take the onslaught of the spikes. He was at home

in the saddle, and the accomplishment was about the only one he possessed that had been of any advantage

Ladd pursued a zigzag course southward across the desert, trotting down the aisles, cantering in wide, bare

patches, walking through the clumps of cacti. The desert seemed all of a sameness to Dicka wilderness of

rocks and jagged growths hemmed in by lowering ranges, always looking close, yet never growing any

nearer. The moon slanted back toward the west, losing its white radiance, and the gloom of the earlier

evening began to creep into the washes and to darken under the mesas. By and by Ladd entered an arroyo,

and here the travelers turned and twisted with the meanderings of a dry stream bed. At the head of a canyon

they had to take once more to the rougher ground. Always it led down, always it grew rougher, more rolling,

Gale became chilled to the bone, and his clothes were damp and cold. His knees smarted from the wounds of

the poisoned thorns, and his right hand was either swollen stiff or too numb to move. Moreover, he was

tiring. The excitement, the long walk, the miles on miles of jolting trotthese had wearied him. Mercedes

must be made of steel, he thought, to stand all that she had been subjected to and yet, when the stars were

So Dick Gale rode on, drowsier for each mile, and more and more giving the horse a choice of ground.

Sometimes a prod from a murderous spine roused Dick. A grayness had blotted out the waning moon in the

west and the clear, dark, starry sky overhead. Once when Gale, thinking to fight his weariness, raised his

head, he saw that one of the horses in the lead was riderless. Ladd was carrying Mercedes. Dick marveled

that her collapse had not come sooner. Another time, rousing himself again, he imagined they were now on a

It seemed that hours passed, though he knew only little time had elapsed, when once more he threw off the

spell of weariness. He heard a dog bark. Tall trees lined the open lane down which he was riding. Presently in

the gray gloom he saw low, square houses with flat roofs. Ladd turned off to the left down another lane,

gloomy between trees. Every few rods there was one of the squat houses. This lane opened into wider, lighter

space. The cold air bore a sweet perfumewhether of flowers or fruit Dick could not tell. Ladd rode on for

perhaps a quarter of a mile, though it seemed interminably long to Dick. A grove of trees loomed dark in the

gray morning. Ladd entered it and was lost in the shade. Dick rode on among trees. Presently he heard voices,

and soon another house, low and flat like the others, but so long he could not see the farther end, stood up

blacker than the trees. As he dismounted, cramped and sore, he could scarcely stand. Lash came alongside.

He spoke, and some one with a big, hearty voice replied to him. Then it seemed to Dick that he was led into

blackness like pitch, where, presently, he felt blankets thrown on him and then his drowsy faculties faded.

WHEN Dick opened his eyes a flood of golden sunshine streamed in at the open window under which he lay.

His first thought was one of blank wonder as to where in the world he happened to be. The room was large,

square, adobewalled. It was littered with saddles, harness, blankets. Upon the floor was a bed spread out

upon a tarpaulin. Probably this was where some one had slept. The sight of huge dusty spurs, a gun belt with

sheath and gun, and a pair of leather chaps bristling with broken cactus thorns recalled to Dick the cowboys,

He did not recollect having removed his boots; indeed, upon second thought, he knew he had not done so.

But there they stood upon the floor. Ladd and Lash must have taken them off when he was so exhausted and

sleepy that he could not tell what was happening. He felt a dead weight of complete lassitude, and he did not

want to move. A sudden pain in his hand caused him to hold it up. It was black and blue, swollen to almost

twice its normal size, and stiff as a board. The knuckles were skinned and crusted with dry blood. Dick

soliloquized that it was the worstlooking hand he had seen since football days, and that it would

A warm, dry, fragrant breeze came through the window. Dick caught again the sweet smell of flowers or

fruit. He heard the fluttering of leaves, the murmur of running water, the twittering of birds, then the sound of

approaching footsteps and voices. The door at the far end of the room was open. Through it he saw poles of

peeled wood upholding a porch roof, a bench, rose bushes in bloom, grass, and beyond these brightgreen

"He shore was sleepin' when I looked in an hour ago," said a voice that Dick recognized as Ladd's.

"Let him sleep," came the reply in deep, goodnatured tones. "Mrs. B. says the girl's never moved. Must have

"Young Gale hoofed darn near half the way," replied Ladd. "We tried to make him ride one of our hosses. If

"Well, Laddy, I'm right down glad to see you boys, and I'll do all I can for the young couple," said the other.

"I've got only a few head of cattle at the oasis now, I'm worrying some, mostly about my horses. The U. S. is

doing some worrying, too, don't mistake me. The rebels have worked west and north as far as Casita. There

are no cavalrymen along the line beyond Casita, and there can't be. It's practically waterless desert. But these

rebels are desert men. They could cross the line beyond the Rio Forlorn and smuggle arms into Mexico. Of

course, my job is to keep tab on Chinese and Japs trying to get into the U.S. from Magdalena Bay. But I'm

supposed to patrol the border line. I'm going to hire some rangers. Now, I'm not so afraid of being shot up,

though out in this lonely place there's danger of it; what I'm afraid of most is losing that bunch of horses. If

any rebels come this far, or if they ever hear of my horses, they're going to raid me. You know what those

guerrilla Mexicans will do for horses. They're crazy on horse flesh. They know fine horses. They breed the

"Reckon me an' Jim might as well tie up with your for a spell, Beldin'. We've been ridin' up an' down Arizona

"Laddy, it's open enough around Forlorn River to satisfy even an oldtime cowpuncher like you," laughed

Belding. "I'd take your staying on as some favor, don't mistake me. Perhaps I can persuade the young man

"That's shore likely. He said he had no money, no friends. An' if a scrapper's all you're lookin' for he'll do,"

"Mrs. B. will throw some broncho capers round this ranch when she hears I'm going to hire a stranger."

"Well, there's Nell And you said this Gale was a young American. My wife will be scared to death for fear

Laddy choked off a laugh, then evidently slapped his knee or Belding's, for there was a resounding smack.

By this time Dick Gale's ears began to burn and he was trying to make himself deaf when he wanted to hear

"Husky young fellow, nice voice, steady, clear eyes, kinda proud, I thought, an' some handsome, he was,"

"Maybe I ought to think twice before taking a stranger into my family," said Belding, seriously. "Well, I

guess he's all right, Laddy, being the cavalryman's friend. No bum or lunger? He must be all right?"

"Bum? Lunger? Say, didn't I tell you I shook hands with this boy an' was plumb glad to meet him?"

demanded Laddy, with considerable heat. Manifestly he had been affronted. "Tom Beldin', he's a gentleman,

"Less time," replied Lash. "Tom, here's my stand. Young Gale can have my hoss, my gun, anythin' of mine."

"Aw, I didn't mean to insult you, boys, don't mistake me," said Belding. "Course he's all right."

The object of this conversation lay quiet upon his bed, thrilling and amazed at being so championed by the

cowboys, delighted with Belding's idea of employing him, and much amused with the quaint seriousness of

"How's the young man?" called a woman's voice. It was kind and mellow and earnest.

"He's asleep yet, wife," replied Belding. "Guess he was pretty much knocked out....I'll close the door there so

There were slow, soft steps, then the door softly closed. But the fact scarcely made a perceptible difference in

"Laddy and Jim are going to stay," went on Belding. "It'll be like the old Panhandle days a little. I'm powerful

glad to have the boys, Nellie. You know I meant to sent to Casita to ask them. We'll see some trouble before

"Laddy swears he's all right," interrupted the husband. "That's enough reference for me. Isn't it enough for

"Humph! Laddy knows a lot about young men, now doesn't he, especially strangers from the East?...Tom,

"Wife, I'm only too glad to have a nervy young chap come along. What sense is there in your objection, if

"Well, wouldn't that be regular? Doesn't every man who comes along fall in love with Nell? Hasn't it always

happened? When she was a schoolgirl in Kansas didn't it happen? Didn't she have a hundred mooneyed

ninnies after her in Texas? I've had some peace out here in the desert, except when a Greaser or a prospector

"But, Tom, Nell might fall in love with this young man!" exclaimed the wife, in distress.

"Laddy, Jim, didn't I tell you?" cried Belding. "I knew she'd say that....My dear wife, I would be simply

overcome with joy if Nell did fall in love once. Real good and hard! She's wilder than any antelope out there

on the desert. Nell's nearly twenty now, and so far as we know she's never cared a rap for any fellow. And

she's just as gay and full of the devil as she was at fourteen. Nell's as good and lovable as she is pretty, but

I'm afraid she'll never grow into a woman while we live out in this lonely land. And you've always hated

towns where there was a chance for the girljust because you were afraid she'd fall in love. You've always

been strange, even silly, about that. I've done my best for Nellloved her as if she were my own daughter.

I've changed many business plans to suit your whims. There are rough times ahead, maybe. I need men. I'll

hire this chap Gale if he'll stay. Let Nell take her chance with him, just as she'll have to take chances with

"I hope Laddy's not mistaken in his opinion of this newcomer," replied Mrs. Belding, with a sigh of

"Shore I never made a mistake in my life figger'n' people," said Laddy, stoutly.

"Yes, you have, Laddy," replied Mrs. Belding. "You're wrong about Tom....Well, supper is to be got. That

young man and the girl will be starved. I'll go in now. If Nell happens around don'tdon't flatter her, Laddy,

"Shore she's powerful particular about that girl," observed Laddy. "Say, Tom, Nell knows she's pretty, doesn't

"She's liable to find it out unless you shut up, Laddy. When you visited us out here some weeks ago, you kept

"I'll be darned if I believe any girl can be hurt by a little sweet talk. It pleases 'em....But say, Beldin', speaking

"Well, neither have I in daytime. I had enough by moonlight. Nell is some on looks, but I'm regretful passin'

"My money's on Nell," replied Lash. "Gimme a girl with flesh an' color, an' blue eyes alaughin'. Miss

Castaneda is some peach, I'll not gainsay. But her face seemed too white. An' when she flashed those eyes on

me, I thought I was shot! When she stood up there at first, thankin' us, I felt as if aa princess was round

Dick's tingling ears took in the pattering of light footsteps, the rush of some one running.

"Here you are," cried a sweet, happy voice. "Dad, the Senorita is perfectly lovely. I've been peeping at her.

"Shore she's only played out," said Laddy. "But she had spunk while it lasted....I was just arguin' with Jim an'

"Gracious! Why, she's beautiful. I never saw any one so beautiful....How strange and sad, that about her! Tell

me more, Laddy. You promised. I'm dying to know. I never hear anything in this awful place. Didn't you say

"Well, I'm not long acquainted, never saw him by day, but I was some tolerable took with him. An' Jim here,

"Wonderful! Laddy, what on earth did this stranger do to win you cowboys in just one night?"

"I'll shore have to tell you. Me an' Jim were watchin' a game of cards in the Del Sol saloon in Casita. That's

across the line. We had acquaintancesfour fellows from the Cross Bar outfit, where we worked a while

back. This Del Sol is a billiard hall, saloon, restaurant, an' the like. An' it was full of Greasers. Some of

Camp's rebels were there drinkin' an' playin' games. Then pretty soon in come Rojas with some of his outfit.

They were packin' guns an' kept to themselves off to one side. I didn't give them a second look till Jim said he

reckoned there was somethin' in the wind. Then, carelesslike, I began to peek at Rojas. They call Rojas the

'dandy rebel,' an' he shore looked the part. It made me sick to see him in all that lace an' glitter, knowin' him

to be the cutthroat robber he is. It's no oncommon sight to see excited Greasers. They're all crazy. But this

bandit was shore some agitated. He kept his men in a tight bunch round a table. He talked an' waved his

hands. He was actually shakin'. His eyes had a wild glare. Now I figgered that trouble was brewin', most

likely for the little Casita garrison. People seemed to think Campo an' Rojas would join forces to oust the

federals. Jim thought Rojas's excitement was at the hatchin' of some plot. Anyway, we didn't join no card

"A little while afterward I seen a fellow standin' in the restaurant door. He was a young American dressed in

corduroys and boots, like a prospector. You know it's no onusual fact to see prospectors in these parts. What

made me think twice about this one was how big he seemed, how he filled up that door. He looked round the

saloon, an' when he spotted Rojas he sorta jerked up. Then he pulled his slouch hat lopsided an' began to

stagger down, down the steps. First off I made shore he was drunk. But I remembered he didn't seem drunk

"He reeled around the room like a fellow who was drunker'n a lord. Nobody but me seemed to notice him.

Then he began to stumble over poolplayers an' get his feet tangled up in chairs an' bump against tables. He

got some pretty hard looks. He came round our way, an' all of a sudden he seen us cowboys. He gave another

start, like the one when he first seen Rojas, then he made for us. I tipped Jim off that somethin' was doin'.

"When he got close he straightened up, put back his slouch hat, an' looked at us. Then I saw his face. It sorta

electrified yours truly. It was white, with veins standin' out an' eyes flamin'a face of fury. I was plumb

amazed, didn't know what to think. Then this queer young man shot some cool, polite words at me an' Jim.

"He was only bluffin' at bein' drunkhe meant to rush Rojas, to start a rough house. The bandit was after a

girl. This girl was in the hotel, an' she was the sweetheart of a soldier, the young fellow's friend. The hotel

was watched by Rojas's guards, an' the plan was to make a fuss an' get the girl away in the excitement. Well,

Jim an' me got a hint of our bein' Americansthat cowboys generally had a name for loyalty to women.

Then this amazin' chapyou can't imagine how scornfulsaid for me an' Jim to watch him.

"Before I could catch my breath an' figger out what he meant by 'rush' an' 'rough house' he had knocked over

a table an' crowded some Greaser half off the map. One little funny man leaped up like a wild monkey an'

began to screech. An' in another second he was in the air upside down. When he lit, he laid there. Then,

quicker'n I can tell you, the young man dove at Rojas. Like a mad steer on the rampage he charged Rojas an'

his men. The whole outfit went downsmash! I figgered then what 'rush' meant. The young fellow came up

out of the pile with Rojas, an' just like I'd sling an empty sack along the floor he sent the bandit. But swift as

that went he was on top of Rojas before the chairs an' tables had stopped rollin'.

"I woke up then, an' made for the center of the room. Jim with me. I began to shoot out the lamps. Jim

throwed his guns on the crazy rebels, an' I was afraid there'd be blood spilled before I could get the room

dark. Bein's shore busy, I lost sight of the young fellow for a second or so, an' when I got an eye free for him

I seen a Greaser about to knife him. Think I was some considerate of the Greaser by only shootin' his arm off.

"We made tracks for our hosses an' packs, an' was hittin' the San Felipe road when we run right plumb into

the young man. Well, he said his name was GaleDick Gale. The girl was with him safe an' well; but her

sweetheart, the soldier, bein' away without leave, had to go back sudden. There shore was some trouble, for

Jim an' me heard shootin'. Gale said he had no money, no friends, was a stranger in a desert country; an' he

was distracted to know how to help the girl. So me an' Jim started off with them for San Felipe, got switched,

"Shore he was. Only, Nell, you can't lay no claim to bein' the original discoverer of that fact."

At this juncture Dick Gale felt is absolutely impossible for him to play the eavesdropper any longer. Quietly

he rolled out of bed. The voices still sounded close outside, and it was only by effort that he kept from further

listening. Belding's kindly interest, Laddy's blunt and sincere cowboy eulogy, the girl's sweet eagerness and

praisethese warmed Gale's heart. He had fallen among simple people, into whose lives the advent of an

unknown man was welcome. He found himself in a singularly agitated mood. The excitement, the thrill, the

difference felt in himself, experienced the preceding night, had extended on into his present. And the

possibilities suggested by the conversation he had unwittingly overheard added sufficiently to the other

feelings to put him into a peculiarly receptive state of mind. He was wild to be one of the Beldings rangers.

The idea of riding a horse in the open desert, with a dangerous duty to perform, seemed to strike him with an

appealing force. Something within him went out to the cowboys, to this blunt and kind Belding. He was

afraid to meet the girl. If every man who came along fell in love with this sweetvoiced Nell, then what hope

had he to escapenow, when his whole inner awakening betokened a change of spirit, hope, a finding of real

worth, real good, real power in himself? He did not understand wholly, yet he felt ready to ride, to fight, to

love the desert, to love these outdoor men, to love a woman. That beautiful Spanish girl had spoken to

something dead in him and it had quickened to life. The sweet voice of an audacious, unseen girl warned him

Gale imagined he made noise enough as he clumsily pulled on his boots, yet the voices, split by a merry

laugh, kept on murmuring outside the door. It was awkward for him, having only one hand available to lace

up his boots. He looked out of the window. Evidently this was at the end of the house. There was a flagstone

walk, beside which ran a ditch full of swift, muddy water. It made a pleasant sound. There were trees strange

of form and color to to him. He heard bees, birds, chickens, saw the red of roses and green of grass. Then he

saw, close to the wall, a tub full of water, and a bench upon which lay basin, soap, towel, comb, and brush.

Gale hesitated a moment, then went out. He stepped naturally, hoping and expecting that the cowboys would

hear him. But nobody came. Awkwardly, with left hand, he washed his face. Upon a nail in the wall hung a

little mirror, by the aid of which Dick combed and brushed his hair. He imagined he looked a most haggard

wretch. With that he faced forward, meaning to go round the corner of the house to greet the cowboys and

Dick had taken but one step when he was halted by laugher and the patter of light feet.

From close around the corner pealed out that sweet voice. "Dad, you'll have your wish, and mama will be

Dick saw a little foot sweep into view, a white dress, then the swiftly moving form of a girl. She was looking

Dick saw a fair face and darkblue, audaciously flashing eyes. Swift as lightning their expression changed to

surprise, fear, wonder. For an instant they were level with Dick's grave questioning. Suddenly, sweetly, she

Then the blush turned to a scarlet fire. She whirled past him, and like a white gleam was gone.

Dick became conscious of the quickened beating of his heart. He experienced a singular exhilaration. That

moment had been the one for which he had been ripe, the event upon which strange circumstances had been

With a couple of strides he turned the corner. Laddy and Lash were there talking to a man of burly form. Seen

by day, both cowboys were grayhaired, redskinned, and weatherbeaten, with lean, sharp features, and

"Hello, there's the young fellow," spoke up the burly man. "Mr. Gale, I'm glad to meet you. My name's

His greeting was as warm as his handclasp was long and hard. Gale saw a heavy man of medium height. His

head was large and covered with grizzled locks. He wore a shortcropped mustache and chin beard. His skin

"Young man, did you run into anything as you came out?" asked Belding, with twinkling eyes.

"That was Nell Burton, my girlstepdaughter, I should say," said Belding. "She's sure some whirlwind, as

The house was long, like a barracks, with porch extending all the way, and doors every dozen paces. When

Dick was ushered into a sittingroom, he was amazed at the light and comfort. This room had two big

windows and a door opening into a patio, where there were luxuriant grass, roses in bloom, and flowering

In Mrs. Belding, Gale found a woman of noble proportions and striking appearance. Her hair was white. She

had a strong, serious, welllined face that bore haunting evidences of past beauty. The gaze she bent upon

him was almost piercing in its intensity. Her greeting, which seemed to Dick rather slow in coming, was kind

though not cordial. Gale's first thought, after he had thanked these good people for their hospitality, was to

inquire about Mercedes. He was informed that the Spanish girl had awakened with a considerable fever and

nervousness. When, however, her anxiety had been allayed and her thirst relieved, she had fallen asleep

again. Mrs. Belding said the girl had suffered no great hardship, other than mental, and would very soon be

"Now, Gale," said Belding, when his wife had excused herself to get supper, "the boys, Jim and Laddy, told

me about you and the mixup at Casita. I'll be glad to take care of the girl till it's safe for your soldier friend

to get her out of the country. That won't be very soon, don't mistake me....I don't want to seem overcurious

about youLaddy has interested me in youand straight out I'd like to know what you propose to do now."

"I haven't any plans," replied Dick; and, taking the moment as propitious, he decided to speak frankly

concerning himself. "I just drifted down here. My home is in Chicago. When I left school some years

agoI'm twentyfive nowI went to work for my father. He'she has business interests there. I tried all

kinds of inside jobs. I couldn't please my father. I guess I put no real heart in my work. the fact was I didn't

know how to work. The governor and I didn't exactly quarrel; but he hurt my feelings, and I quit. Six months

or more ago I came West, and have knocked about from Wyoming southwest to the border. I tried to find

congenial work, but nothing came my way. To tell you frankly, Mr. Belding, I suppose I didn't much care. I

believe, though, that all the time I didn't know what I wanted. I've learnedwell, just lately"

"I want a man's job. I want to do things with my hands. I want action. I want to be outdoors."

Belding nodded his head as if he understood that, and he began to speak again, cut something short, then

"Mr. Belding, there's nothing shady in my past. The governor would be glad to have me home. That's the only

consolation I've got. But I'm not going. I'm broke. I won't be a tramp. And it's up to me to do something."

"How'd you like to be a border ranger?" asked Belding, laying a hand on Dick's knee. "Part of my job here is

United States Inspector of Immigration. I've got that boundary line to patrolto keep out Chinks and Japs.

This revolution has added complications, and I'm looking for smugglers and raiders here any day. You'll not

be hired by the U. S. You'll simply be my ranger, same as Laddy and Jim, who have promised to work for

me. I'll pay you well, give you a room here, furnish everything down to guns, and the finest horse you ever

saw in your life. Your job won't be safe and healthy, sometimes, but it'll be a man's jobdon't mistake me!

Both boys expressed satisfaction at the turn of affairs, and then with Belding they set out to take Gale around

the ranch. The house and several outbuildings were constructed of adobe, which, according to Belding,

retained the summer heat on into winter, and the winter cold on into summer. These grayred mud

habitations were hideous to look at, and this fact, perhaps, made their really comfortable interiors more

vividly a contrast. The wide grounds were covered with luxuriant grass and flowers and different kinds of

trees. Gale's interest led him to ask about fig trees and pomegranates, and especially about a beautiful

Belding explained that the luxuriance of this desert place was owing to a few springs and the dammedup

waters of the Rio Forlorn. Before he had come to the oasis it had been inhabited by a Papago Indian tribe and

a few peon families. The oasis lay in an arroyo a mile wide, and sloped southwest for some ten miles or more.

The river went dry most of the year; but enough water was stored in flood season to irrigate the gardens and

"I've got one neverfailing spring on my place," said Belding. "Fine, sweet water! You know what that means

in the desert. I like this oasis. The longer I live here the better I like it. There's not a spot in southern Arizona

that'll compare with this valley for water or grass or wood. It's beautiful and healthy. Forlorn and lonely, yes,

especially for women like my wife and Nell; but I like it....And between you and me, boys, I've got

something up my sleeve. There's gold dust in the arroyos, and there's mineral up in the mountains. If we only

had water! This hamlet has steadily grown since I took up a station here. Why, Casita is no place beside

Forlorn River. Pretty soon the Southern Pacific will shoot a railroad branch out here. There are possibilities,

and I want you boys to stay with me and get in on the ground floor. I wish this rebel war was over....Well,

here are the corrals and the fields. Gale, take a look at that bunch of horses!"

Belding's last remark was made as he led his companions out of shady gardens into the open. Gale saw an

adobe shed and a huge pen fenced by strangely twisted and contorted branches or trunks of mesquite, and,

beyond these, wide, flat fields, greena dark, rich greenand dotted with beautiful horses. There were

whites and blacks, and bays and grays. In his admiration Gale searched his memory to see if he could

remember the like of these magnificent animals, and had to admit that the only ones he could compare with

"Every ranch loves his horses," said Belding. "When I was in the Panhandle I had some fine stock. But these

are Mexican. They came from Durango, where they were bred. Mexican horses are the finest in the world,

"Shore I reckon I savvy why you don't sleep nights," drawled Laddy. "I see a Greaser out thereno, it's an

"That's my Papago herdsman. I keep watch over the horses now day and night. Lord, how I'd hate to have

Rojas or Salazarany of those bandit rebelsfind my horses!...Gale, can you ride?"

Dick modestly replied that he could, according to the Eastern idea of horsemanship.

"You don't need to be half horse to ride one of that bunch. But over there in the other field I've ironjawed

broncos I wouldn't want you to tackleexcept to see the fun. I've an outlaw I'll gamble even Laddy can't

The ringing of a bell, which Belding said was a call to supper, turned the men back toward the house. Facing

that way, Gale saw dark, beetling ridges rising from the oasis and leading up to bare, black mountains. He

had heard Belding call them No Name Mountains, and somehow the appellation suited those lofty,

It was not until they reached the house and were about to go in that Belding chanced to discover Gale's

"You did that in one punch? Say, I'm glad it wasn't me you hit! Why didn't you tell me? That's a bad hand.

Those cuts are full of dirt and sand. Inflammation's setting in. It's got to be dressed. Nell!" he called.

This brought results. Dick saw a glimpse of golden hair and a white dress in the door. But they were not

"Dad, what's the matter?" asked a voice that was still as sweet as formerly, but now rather small and

Belding fetched a pail of water and a basin from the kitchen. His wife followed him out, and, upon seeing

Dick's hand, was all solicitude. Then Dick heard light, quick footsteps, but he did not look up.

"Nell, this is Mr. GaleDick Gale, who came with the boys last last night," said Belding. "He's got an awful

hand. Got it punching that greaser Rojas. I want you to dress it....Gale, this is my stepdaughter, Nell Burton,

of whom I spoke. She's some good when there's somebody sick or hurt. Shove out your fist, my boy, and let

Dick felt that same strange, quickening heart throb, yet he had never been cooler in his life. More than

anything else in the world he wanted to look at Nell Burton; however, divining that the situation might be

embarrassing to her, he refrained from looking up. She began to bathe his injured knuckles. He noted the

softness, the deftness of her touch, and then it seemed her fingers were not quite as steady as they might have

been. Still, in a moment they appeared to become surer in their work. She had beautiful hands, not too large,

though certainly not small, and they were strong, brown, supple. He observed next, with stealthy,

upwardstealing glance, that she had rolled up her sleeves, exposing fine, round arms graceful in line. Her

skin was brownno, it was more gold than brown. It had a wonderful clear tint. Dick stoically lowered his

eyes then, putting off as long as possible the alluring moment when he was to look into her face. That would

be a fateful moment. He played with a certain strange joy of anticipation. When, however, she sat down

beside him and rested his injured hand in her lap as she cut bandages, she was so thrillingly near that he

yielded to an irrepressible desire to look up. She had a sweet, fair face warmly tinted with that same healthy

goldenbrown sunburn. Her hair was light gold and abundant, a waving mass. Her eyes were shaded by long,

Despite the stir within him, Gale, seeing she was now absorbed in her task, critically studied her with a

"Yes, I confess it did," replied Dick, slowly, with his eyes on Nell's face. "But I didn't mind."

The girl's lashes swept up swiftly in surprise. She had taken his words literally. But the darkblue eyes met

his for only a fleeting second. Then the warm tint in her cheeks turned as red as her lips. Hurriedly she

With that Belding appeared in the doorway, and finding the operation concluded, called them in to supper.

Dick had the use of only one arm, and he certainly was keenly aware of the shy, silent girl across the table;

but in spite of these considerable handicaps he eclipsed both hungry cowboys in the assault upon Mrs.

Belding's bounteous supper. Belding talked, the cowboys talked more or less. Mrs. Belding put in a word

now and then, and Dick managed to find brief intervals when it was possible for him to say yes or no. He

observed gratefully that no one round the table seemed to be aware of his enormous appetite.

After supper, having a favorable opportunity when for a moment no one was at hand, Dick went out through

the yard, past the gardens and fields, and climbed the first knoll. From that vantage point he looked out over

the little hamlet, somewhat to his right, and was surprised at its extent, its considerable number of adobe

houses. The overhanging mountains, ragged and darkening, a great heave of splintered rock, rather chilled

Westward the setting sun gilded a spiked, frostcolored, limitless expanse of desert. It awed Gale.

Everywhere rose blunt, broken ranges or isolated groups of mountains. Yet the desert stretched away down

between and beyond them. When the sun set and Gale could not see so far, he felt a relief.

That grand and austere attraction of distance gone, he saw the desert nearer at handthe valley at his feet.

What a strange gray, somber place! There was a lighter strip of gray winding down between darker hues. This

he realized presently was the river bed, and he saw how the pools of water narrowed and diminished in size

till they lost themselves in gray sand. This was the rainy season, near its end, and here a little river struggled

hopelessly, forlornly to live in the desert. He received a potent impression of the nature of that blasted

BELDING assigned Dick to a little room which had no windows but two doors, one opening into the patio,

the other into the yard on the west side of the house. It contained only the barest necessities for comfort. Dick

mentioned the baggage he had left in the hotel at Casita, and it was Belding's opinion that to try to recover his

property would be rather risky; on the moment Richard Gale was probably not popular with the Mexicans at

Casita. So Dick bade goodby to fine suits of clothes and linen with a feeling that, as he had said farewell to

an idle and useless past, it was just as well not to have any old luxuries as reminders. As he possessed,

however, not a thing save the clothes on his back, and not even a handkerchief, he expressed regret that he

"Beggar hell!" exploded Belding, with his eyes snapping in the lamplight. "Money's the last thing we think of

"It wouldn't surprise me," replied Dick, thoughtfully. But he was not thinking of material wealth. Then, as he

viewed his stained and torn shirt, he laughed and said "Belding, while I'm getting rich I'd like to have some

"We've a little Mex store in town, and what you can't get there the women folks will make for you."

When Dick lay down he was dully conscious of pain and headache, that he did not feel well. Despite this, and

a mind thronging with memories and anticipations, he succumbed to weariness and soon fell asleep.

It was light when he awoke, but a strange brightness seen through what seemed blurred eyes. A moment

passed before his mind worked clearly, and then he had to make an effort to think. He was dizzy. When he

essayed to lift his right arm, an excruciating pain made him desist. Then he discovered that his arm was badly

swollen, and the hand had burst its bandages. The injured member was red, angry, inflamed, and twice its

Dick tried to sit up, but his effort was a failure. He got about half up, then felt himself weakly sliding back.

He saw Belding lean over him, feel his face, and speak, and then everything seemed to drift, not into

darkness, but into some region where he had dim perceptions of gray moving things, and of voices that were

remote. Then there came an interval when all was blank. He knew not whether it was one of minutes or

hours, but after it he had a clearer mind. He slept, awakened during nighttime, and slept again. When he

again unclosed his eyes the room was sunny, and cool with a fragrant breeze that blew through the open door.

Dick felt better; but he had no particular desire to move or talk or eat. He had, however, a burning thirst. Mrs.

Belding visited him often; her husband came in several times, and once Nell slipped in noiselessly. Even this

"We've been afraid of blood poisoning," said Belding. "But my wife thinks the danger's past. You'll have to

"Come in, boys. He can have companythe more the betterif it'll keep him content. He mustn't move,

Jim Lash wagged his halfbald, sunburned head, "Musta been more'n tough for Rojas."

"Gale, Laddy tells me one of our neighbors, fellow named Carter, is going to Casita," put in Belding. "Here's

"Oh, that will be fine!" exclaimed Dick. "I declare I'd forgotten Thorne....How is Miss Castaneda? I hope"

"She's all right, Gale. Been up and around the patio for two days. Like all the Spanishthe real thingshe's

made of Damascus steel. We've been getting acquainted. She and Nell made friends at once. I'll call them in."

He closed the door leading out into the yard, explaining that he did not want to take chances of Mercedes's

Both girls came in, Mercedes leading. Like Nell, she wore white, and she had a red rose in her hand. Dick

would scarcely have recognized anything about her except her eyes and the way she carried her little head,

and her beauty burst upon him strange and anew. She was swift, impulsive in her movements to reach his

Dick greeted her, offering his left hand, gravely apologizing for the fact that, owing to a late infirmity, he

could not offer the right. Her smile exquisitely combined sympathy, gratitude, admiration. Then Dick spoke

to Nell, likewise offering his hand, which she took shyly. Her reply was a murmured, unintelligible one; but

her eyes were glad, and the tint in her cheeks threatened to rival the hue of the rose she carried.

Everybody chatted then, except Nell, who had apparently lost her voice. Presently Dick remembered to speak

"Senor, may I write to him? Will some one take a letter?...I shall hear from him!" she said; and her white

"Assuredly. I guess poor Thorne is almost crazy. I'll write to him....No, I can't with this crippled hand."

"That'll be all right, Gale," said Belding. "Nell will write for you. She writes all my letters."

So Belding arranged it; and Mercedes flew away to her room to write, while Nell fetched pen and paper and

What with watching Nell and trying to catch her glance, and listening to Belding's talk with the cowboys,

Dick was hard put to it to dictate any kind of a creditable letter. Nell met his gaze once, then no more. The

color came and went in her cheeks, and sometimes, when he told her to write so and so, there was a demure

smile on her lips. She was laughing at him. And Belding was talking over the risks involved in a trip to

"I'll tell you, boys, I'll ride in myself with Carter. There's business I can see to, and I'm curious to know what

the rebels are doing. Laddy, keep one eye open while I'm gone. See the horses are locked up....Gale, I'm

going to Casita myself. Ought to get back tomorrow some time. I'll be ready to start in an hour. Have your

letter ready. And sayif you want to write home it's a chance. Sometimes we don't go to the P. O. in a

He tramped out, followed by the tall cowboys, and then Dick was enabled to bring his letter to a close.

Mercedes came back, and her eyes were shining. Dick imagined a letter received from her would be

something of an event for a fellow. Then, remembering Belding's suggestion, he decided to profit by it.

"May I trouble you to write another for me?" asked Dick, as he received the letter from Nell.

That was altogether a wonderful speech of hers, Dick thought, because the words were the first coherent ones

Presently Gale paused, partly because of genuine emotion, and stole a look from under his hand at Nell. She

wrote swiftly, and her downcast face seemed to be softer in its expression of sweetness. If she had in the very

When Dick finished dictating, his eyes were upon Mercedes, who sat smiling curious and sympathetic. How

responsive she was! He heard the hasty scratch of Nell's pen. He looked at Nell. Presently she rose, holding

out his letter. He was just in time to see a wave of red recede from her face. She gave him one swift gaze,

unconscious, searching, then averted it and turned away. She left the room with Mercedes before he could

But that strange, speaking flash of eyes remained to haunt and torment Gale. It was indescribably sweet, and

provocative of thoughts that he believed were wild without warrant. Something within him danced for very

joy, and the next instant he was conscious of wistful doubt, a gravity that he could not understand. It dawned

upon him that for the brief instant when Nell had met his gaze she had lost her shyness. It was a woman's

During the rest of the day Gale was content to lie still on his bed thinking and dreaming, dozing at intervals,

and watching the lights change upon the mountain peaks, feeling the warm, fragrant desert wind that blew in

upon him. He seemed to have lost the faculty of estimating time. A long while, strong in its effect upon him,

appeared to have passed since he had met Thorne. He accepted things as he felt them, and repudiated his

intelligence. His old inquisitive habit of mind returned. Did he love Nell? Was he only attracted for the

moment? What was the use of worrying about her or himself? He refused to answer, and deliberately gave

Next day he believed he was well enough to leave his room; but Mrs. Belding would not permit him to do so.

She was kind, softhanded, motherly, and she was always coming in to minister to his comfort. This attention

was sincere, not in the least forced; yet Gale felt that the friendliness so manifest in the others of the

household did not extend to her. He was conscious of something that a little thought persuaded him was

antagonism. It surprised and hurt him. He had never been much of a success with girls and young married

women, but their mothers and old people had generally been fond of him. Still, though Mrs. Belding's hair

was snowwhite, she did not impress him as being old. He reflected that there might come a time when it

would be desirable, far beyond any ground of everyday friendly kindliness, to have Mrs. Belding be well

disposed toward him. So he thought about her, and pondered how to make her like him. It did not take very

long for Dick to discover that he liked her. Her face, except when she smiled, was thoughtful and sad. It was

a face to make one serious. Like a haunting shadow, like a phantom of happier years, the sweetness of Nell's

face was there, and infinitely more of beauty than had been transmitted to the daughter. Dick believed Mrs.

Belding's friendship and motherly love were worth striving to win, entirely aside from any more selfish

motive. He decided both would be hard to get. Often he felt her deep, penetrating gaze upon him; and, though

this in no wise embarrassed himfor he had no shameful secrets of past or presentit showed him how

useless it would be to try to conceal anything from her. Naturally, on first impulse, he wanted to hide his

interest in the daughter; but he resolved to be absolutely frank and true, and through that win or lose.

Moreover, if Mrs. Belding asked him any questions about his home, his family, his connections, he would not

Toward evening Gale heard the tramp of horses and Belding's hearty voice. Presently the rancher strode in

"Hello, Dick! Good news and bad!" he said, putting the letter in Dick's hand. "Had no trouble finding your

friend Thorne. Looked like he'd been drunk for a week! Say, he nearly threw a fit. I never saw a fellow so

wild with joy. He made sure you and Mercedes were lost in the desert. He wrote two letters which I brought.

Don't mistake me, boy, it was some fun with Mercedes just now. I teased her, wouldn't give her the letter.

You ought to have seen her eyes. If ever you see a blackandwhite desert hawk swoop down upon a quail,

then you'll know how Mercedes pounced upon her letter...Well, Casita is one hell of a place these days. I tried

to get your baggage, and I think I made a mistake. We're going to see travel toward Forlorn River. The

federal garrison got reinforcements from somewhere, and is holding out. There's been fighting for three days.

The rebels have a string of flat railroad cars, all iron, and they ran this up within range of the barricades.

They've got some machine guns, and they're going to lick the federals sure. There are dead soldiers in the

ditches, Mexican noncombatants lying dead in the streetsand buzzards everywhere! It's reported that

Campo, the rebel leader, is on the way up from Sinaloa, and Huerta, a federal general, is coming to relieve the

garrison. I don't take much stock in reports. But there's hell in Casita, all right."

"Sure. Some kind of trouble sooner or later," replied Belding, gloomily. "Why, you can stand on my ranch

and step over into Mexico. Laddy says we'll lose horses and other stock in night raids. Jim Lash doesn't look

for any worse. But Jim isn't as well acquainted with Greasers as I am. Anyway, my boy, as soon as you can

Dick drew a deep breath, and even after Belding had departed he forgot for a moment about the letter in his

Dear Dick,You've more than saved my life. To the end of my days you'll be the one man to whom I owe

This must be a brief note. Belding is waiting, and I used up most of the time writing to Mercedes. I like

Belding. He was not unknown to me, though I never met or saw him before. You'll be interested to learn that

he's the unadulterated article, the real Western goods. I've heard of some of his stunts, and they made my hair

curl. Dick, your luck is staggering. The way Belding spoke of you was great. But you deserve it, old man.

I'm leaving Mercedes in your charge, subject, of course, to advice from Belding. Take care of her, Dick, for

my life is wrapped up in her. By all means keep her from being seen by Mexicans. We are sitting tight

herenothing doing. If some action doesn't come soon, it'll be darned strange. Things are centering this way.

There's scrapping right along, and people have begun to move. We're still patrolling the line eastward of

Casita. It'll be impossible to keep any tab on the line west of Casita, for it's too rough. That cactus desert is

awful. Cowboys or rangers with desertbred horses might keep raiders and smugglers from crossing. But if

cavalrymen could stand that waterless wilderness, which I doubt much, their horses would drop under them.

If things do quiet down before my commission expires, I'll get leave of absence, run out to Forlorn River,

marry my beautiful Spanish princess, and take her to a civilized country, where, I opine, every son of a gun

who sees her will lose his head, and drive me mad. It's my great luck, old pal, that you are a fellow who never

seemed to care about pretty girls. So you won't give me the double cross and run off with Mercedescarry

That reminds me of Rojas. Oh, Dick, it was glorious! You didn't do anything to the Dandy Rebel! Not at all!

You merely caressed himgently moved him to one side. Dick, harken to these glad words: Rojas is in the

hospital. I was interested to inquire. He had a smashed finger, a dislocated collar bone, three broken ribs, and

a fearful gash on his face. He'll be in the hospital for a month. Dick, when I meet that pigheaded dad of

Send me a line whenever any one comes in from F. R., and inclose Mercedes's letter in yours. Take care of

her, Dick, and may the future hold in store for you some of the sweetness I know now!

"Never cared for pretty girls, huh?" he soliloquized. "George, I never saw any till I struck Southern Arizona!

While he was eating his supper, with appetite rapidly returning to normal, Ladd and Jim came in, bowing

their tall heads to enter the door. Their friendly advances were singularly welcome to Gale, but he was still

backward. He allowed himself to show that he was glad to see them, and he listened. Jim Lash had heard

from Belding the result of the mauling given to Rojas by Dick. And Jim talked about what a grand thing that

was. Ladd had a good deal to say about Belding's horses. It took no keen judge of human nature to see that

"I've had wimmen go back on me, but never no hoss!" declared Ladd, and manifestly that was a controlling

"Shore it's a cinch Beldin' is agoin' to lose some of them hosses," he said. "you can search me if I don't think

there'll be more doin' on the border here than along the Rio Grande. We're just the same as on Greaser soil.

Mebbe we don't stand no such chance of bein' shot up as we would across the line. But who's goin' to give up

his hosses without a fight? Half the time when Beldin's stock is out of the alfalfa it's grazin' over the line. He

"Look ahere, Laddy; you cain't believe all you hear," replied Jim, seriously. "I reckon we mightn't have any

"Back up, Jim. Shore you're standin' on your bridle. I ain't goin' much on reports. Remember that American

we met in Casita, the prospector who'd just gotten out of Sonora? He had some story, he had. Swore he'd

killed seventeen Greasers breakin' through the rebel line round the mine where he an' other Americans were

corralled. The next day when I met him again, he was drunk, an' then he told me he'd shot thirty Greasers.

The chances are he did kill some. But reports are exaggerated. There are miners fightin' for life down in

Sonora, you can gamble on that. An' the truth is bad enough. Take Rojas's harryin' of the Senorita, for

instance. Can you beat that? Shore, Jim, there's more doin' than the raidin' of a few hosses. An' Forlorn River

Another dawn found Gale so much recovered that he arose and looked after himself, not, however, without

Some time during the morning he heard the girls in the patio and called to ask if he might join them. He

received one response, a mellow, "Si, Senor." It was not as much as he wanted, but considering that it was

enough, he went out. He had not as yet visited the patio, and surprise and delight were in store for him. He

found himself lost in a labyrinth of green and rosebordered walks. He strolled around, discovering that the

patio was a courtyard, open at an end; but he failed to discover the young ladies. So he called again. the

answer came from the center of the square. After stooping to get under shrubs and wading through bushes he

entered an open sandy circle, full of magnificent and murderous cactus plants, strange to him. On the other

side, in the shade of a beautiful tree, he found the girls. Mercedes sitting in a hammock, Nell upon a blanket.

This desert tree, which had struck Dick as so new and strange and beautiful, was not striking on account of

size, for it was small, scarcely reaching higher than the roof; but rather because of its exquisite color of green,

trunk and branch alike, and owing to the odd fact that it seemed not to possess leaves. All the tree from

Right then and there began Dick's education in desert growths; and he felt that even if he had not had such

charming teachers he would still have been absorbed. For the patio was full of desert wonders. A

twistingtrunked tree with full foliage of small gray leaves Nell called a mesquite. Then Dick remembered

the name, and now he saw where the desert got its palegray color. A huge, lofty, fluted column of green was

a saguaro, or giant cactus. Another oddshaped cactus, resembling the legs of an inverted devilfish, bore the

name ocatillo. Each branch rose high and symmetrical, furnished with sharp blades that seemed to be at once

leaves and thorns. Yet another cactus interested Gale, and it looked like a huge, low barrel covered with

greenribbed cloth and long thorns. This was the bisnaga, or barrel cactus. According to Nell and Mercedes,

this plant was a happy exception to its desert neighbors, for it secreted water which had many times saved the

lives of men. Last of the cacti to attract Gale, and the one to make him shiver, was a low plant, consisting of

stem and many rounded protuberances of a frosty, steely white, and covered with long murderous spikes.

From this plant the desert got its frosty glitter. It was as stiff, as unyielding as steel, and bore the name choya.

Dick's enthusiasm was contagious, and his earnest desire to learn was flattering to his teachers. When it came

to assimilating Spanish, however, he did not appear to be so apt a pupil. He managed, after many trials, to

acquire "buenos dias" and "buenos tardes," and "senorita" and "gracias," and a few other short terms. Dick

was indeed eager to get a little smattering of Spanish, and perhaps he was not really quite so stupid as he

pretended to be. It was delightful to be taught by a beautiful Spaniard who was so gracious and intense and

magnetic of personality, and by a sweet American girl who moment by moment forgot her shyness. Gale

So that was the beginning of many afternoons in which he learned desert lore and Spanish verbs, and

Nell Burton had never shown to Gale that daring side of her character which had been so suggestively

defined in Belding's terse description and Ladd's encomiums, and in her own audacious speech and merry

laugh and flashing eye of that nevertobeforgotten first meeting. She might have been an entirely different

girl. But Gale remembered; and when the ice had been somewhat broken between them, he was always trying

to surprise her into her real self. There were moments that fairly made him tingle with expectation. Yet he

saw little more than a ghost of her vivacity, and never a gleam of that individuality which Belding had called

a devil. On the few occasions that Dick had been left alone with her in the patio Nell had grown suddenly

unresponsive and restrained, or she had left him on some transparent pretext. On the last occasion Mercedes

returned to find Dick staring disconsolately at the rosebordered path, where Nell had evidently vanished.

Dick looked at her, soberly nodded his head, and then he laughed. Mercedes had seen through him in one

swift glance. Her white hand touched his in wordless sympathy and thrilled him. This Spanish girl was all fire

and passion and love. She understood him, she was his friend, she pledged him what he felt would be the

Little by little he learned details of Nell's varied life. She had lived in many places. As a child she

remembered moving from town to town, of going to school among schoolmates whom she never had time to

know. Lawrence, Kansas, where she studied for several years, was the later exception to this changeful nature

of her schooling. Then she moved to Stillwater, Oklahoma, from there to Austin, Texas, and on to Waco,

where her mother met and married Belding. They lived in New Mexico awhile, in Tucson, Arizona, in

"Mother could never live in one place any length of time," said Nell. "And since we've been in the Southwest

she has never ceased trying to find some trace of her father. He was last heard of in Nogales fourteen years

ago. She thinks grandfather was lost in the Sonora Desert....And every place we go is worse. Oh, I love the

desert. But I'd like to go back to Lawrenceor to see Chicago or New Yorksome of the places Mr. Gale

speaks of.... I remember the college at Lawrence, though I was only twelve. I saw racesand once real

football. Since then I've read magazines and papers about big football games, and I was always fascinated

"Yes, a few," replied Dick; and he laughed a little. It was on his lips then to tell her about some of the famous

games in which he had participated. But he refrained from exploiting himself. There was little, however, of

the color and sound and cheer, of the violent action and rush and battle incidental to a big college football

game that he did not succeed in making Mercedes and Nell feel just as if they had been there. They hung

Some one else was present at the latter part of Dick's narrative. The moment he became aware of Mrs.

Belding's presence he remembered fancying he had heard her call, and now he was certain she had done so.

Mercedes and Nell, however, had been and still were oblivious to everything except Dick's recital. He saw

Mrs. Belding cast a strange, intent glance upon Nell, then turn and go silently through the patio. Dick

Dick was haunted by the strange expression he had caught on Mrs. Belding's face, especially the look in her

eyes. It had been one of repressed pain liberated in a flash of certainty. The mother had seen just as quickly as

Mercedes how far he had gone on the road of love. Perhaps she had seen moreeven more than he dared

hope. The incident roused Gale. He could not understand Mrs. Belding, nor why that look of hers, that

seeming baffled, hopeless look of a woman who saw the inevitable forces of life and could not thwart them,

should cause him perplexity and distress. He wanted to go to her and tell her how he felt about Nell, but fear

of absolute destruction of his hopes held him back. He would wait. Nevertheless, an instinct that was perhaps

akin to selfpreservation prompted him to want to let Nell know the state of his mind. Words crowded his

brain seeking utterance. Who and what he was, how he loved her, the work he expected to take up soon, his

longings, hopes, and plansthere was all this and more. But something checked him. And the repression

made him so thoughtful and quiet, even melancholy, that he went outdoors to try to throw off the mood. The

sun was yet high, and a dazzling white light enveloped valleys and peaks. He felt that the wonderful sunshine

was the dominant feature of that arid region. It was like white gold. It had burned its color in a face he knew.

It was going to warm his blood and brown his skin. A hot, languid breeze, so dry that he felt his lips shrink

with its contact, came from the desert; and it seemed to smell of wideopen, untainted places where sand

When he returned to the house, some hours later, his room had been put in order. In the middle of the white

coverlet on his table lay a fresh red rose. Nell had dropped it there. Dick picked it up, feeling a throb in his

breast. It was a bud just beginning to open, to show between its petals a darkred, unfolding heart. How

fragrant it was, how exquisitely delicate, how beautiful its inner hue of red, deep and dark, the crimson of life

Had Nell left it there by accident or by intent? Was it merely kindness or a girl's subtlety? Was it a message

TOWARD evening of a lowering December day, some fifty miles west of Forlorn River, a horseman rode

along an old, dimly defined trail. From time to time he halted to study the lay of the land ahead. It was bare,

somber, ridgy desert, covered with duncolored greasewood and stunted prickly pear. Distant mountains

hemmed in the valley, raising black spurs above the round lomas and the squarewalled mesas.

This lonely horseman bestrode a steed of magnificent build, perfectly white except for a dark bar of color

running down the noble head from ears to nose. Sweatcaked dust stained the long flanks. The horse had been

running. His mane and tail were laced and knotted to keep their length out of reach of grasping cactus and

brush. Clumsy homemade leather shields covered the front of his forelegs and ran up well to his wide

breast. What otherwise would have been muscular symmetry of limb was marred by many a scar and many a

lump. He was lean, gaunt, worn, a huge machine of muscle and bone, beautiful only in head and mane, a

The rider fitted the horse as he fitted the saddle. He was a young man of exceedingly powerful physique,

wideshouldered, longarmed, biglegged. His lean face, where it was not red, blistered and peeling, was the

hue of bronze. He had a dark eye, a falcon gaze, roving and keen. His jaw was prominent and set,

mastifflike; his lips were stern. It was youth with its softness not yet quite burned and hardened away that

This young man was Dick Gale, but not the listless traveler, nor the lounging wanderer who, two months

before, had by chance dropped into Casita. Friendship, chivalry, lovethe deepseated, unplumbed

emotions that had been stirred into being with all their incalculable power for spiritual change, had rendered

different the meaning of life. In the moment almost of their realization the desert had claimed Gale, and had

drawn him into its crucible. The desert had multiplied weeks into years. Heat, thirst, hunger, loneliness, toil,

fear, ferocity, painhe knew them all. He had felt them allthe white sun, with its glazed, coalescing, lurid

fire; the caked split lips and rasping, drypuffed tongue; the sickening ache in the pit of his stomach; the

insupportable silence, the empty space, the utter desolation, the contempt of life; the weary ride, the long

climb, the plod in sand, the search, search, search for water; the sleepless night alone, the watch and wait, the

dread of ambush, the swift flight; the fierce pursuit of men wild as Bedouins and as fleet, the willingness to

deal sudden death, the pain of poison thorn, the stinging tear of lead through flesh; and that strange paradox

of the burning desert, the cold at night, the piercing icy wind, the dew that penetrated to the marrow, the

Beyond any dream of adventure he had ever had, beyond any wild story he had every read, had been his

experience with those hardriding rangers, Ladd and Lash. Then he had traveled alone the hundred miles of

desert between Forlorn River and the Sonoyta Oasis. Ladd's prophecy of trouble on the border had been mild

compared to what had become the actuality. With rebel occupancy of the garrison at Casita, outlaws, bandits,

raiders in rioting bands had spread westward. Like troops of Arabs, magnificently mounted, they were here,

there, everywhere along the line; and if murder and worse were confined to the Mexican side, pillage and

raiding were perpetrated across the border. Many a darkskinned raider bestrode one of Belding's fast horses,

and indeed all except his selected white thoroughbreds had been stolen. So the job of the rangers had become

more than a patrolling of the boundary line to keep Japanese and Chinese from being smuggled into the

United States. Belding kept close at home to protect his family and to hold his property. But the three rangers,

in fulfilling their duty had incurred risks on their own side of the line, had been outraged, robbed, pursued,

and injured on the other. Some of the few waterholes that had to be reached lay far across the border in

Mexican territory. Horses had to drink, men had to drink; and Ladd and Lash were not of the stripe that

forsook a task because of danger. Slow to wrath at first, as became men who had long lived peaceful lives,

they had at length revolted; and desert vultures could have told a gruesome story. Made a comrade and ally of

these bordermen, Dick Gale had leaped at the desert action and strife with an intensity of heart and a rare

physical ability which accounted for the remarkable fact that he had not yet fallen by the way.

On this December afternoon the three rangers, as often, were separated. Lash was far to the westward of

Sonoyta, somewhere along Camino del Diablo, that terrible Devil's Road, where many desert wayfarers had

perished. Ladd had long been overdue in a prearranged meeting with Gale. The fact that Ladd had not shown

The sun had hidden behind clouds all the latter part of that day, an unusual occurrence for that region even in

winter. And now, as the light waned suddenly, telling of the hidden sunset, a cold dry, penetrating wind

sprang up and blew in Gale's face. Not at first, but by imperceptible degrees it chilled him. He untied his coat

from the back of the saddle and put it on. A few cold drops of rain touched his cheek.

He halted upon the edge of a low escarpment. Below him the narrowing valley showed bare, black ribs of

rock, long, winding gray lines leading down to a central floor where mesquite and cactus dotted the barren

landscape. Moving objects, diminutive in size, gray and white in color, arrested Gale's roving sight. They

bobbed away for a while, then stopped. They were antelope, and they had seen his horse. When he rode on

they started once more, keeping to the lowest level. These wary animals were often desert watchdogs for the

ranger, they would betray the proximity of horse or man. With them trotting forward, he made better time for

some miles across the valley. When he lost them, caution once more slowed his advance.

The valley sloped up and narrowed, to head into an arroyo where grass began to show gray between the

clumps of mesquite. Shadows formed ahead in the hollows, along the walls of the arroyo, under the trees, and

they seemed to creep, to rise, to float into a veil cast by the background of bold mountains, at last to claim the

skyline. Night was not close at hand, but it was there in the east, lifting upward, drooping downward,

Gale dismounted to lead his horse, to go forward more slowly. He had ridden sixty miles since morning, and

he was tired, and a not entirely healed wound in his hip made one leg drag a little. A mile up the arroyo, near

its head, lay the Papago Well. The need of water for his horse entailed a risk that otherwise he could have

avoided. The well was on Mexican soil. Gale distinguished a faint light flickering through the thin, sharp

foliage. Campers were at the well, and, whoever they were, no doubt they had prevented Ladd from meeting

Gale. Ladd had gone back to the next waterhole, or maybe he was hiding in an arroyo to the eastward,

Gale turned his horse, not without urge of iron arm and persuasive speech, for the desert steed scented water,

and plodded back to the edge of the arroyo, where in a secluded circle of mesquite he halted. The horse

snorted his relief at the removal of the heavy, burdened saddle and accoutrements, and sagging, bent his

knees, lowered himself with slow heave, and plunged down to roll in the sand. Gale poured the contents of

It was but a drop for a thirsty horse. However, Blanco Sol rubbed a west muzzle against Gale's hand in

appreciation. Gale loved the horse, and was loved in return. They had saved each other's lives, and had spent

long days and nights of desert solitude together. Sol had known other masters, though none so kind as this

The spot of secluded ground was covered with bunches of galleta grass upon which Sol began to graze. Gale

made a long halter of his lariat to keep the horse from wandering in search of water. Next Gale kicked off the

cumbersome chapparejos, with their flapping, tripping folds of leather over his feet, and drawing a long rifle

The coyotes were howling, not here and there, but in concerted volume at the head of the arroyo. To Dick this

was no more reassuring than had been the flickering light of the campfire. The wild desert dogs, with their

characteristic insolent curiosity, were baying men round a campfire. Gale proceeded slowly, halting every

few steps, careful not to brush against the stiff greasewood. In the soft sand his steps made no sound. The

twinkling light vanished occasionally, like a Jacko'lantern, and when it did show it seemed still a long way

off. Gale was not seeking trouble or inviting danger. Water was the thing that drove him. He must see who

A rabbit rustled out of brush at Gale's feet and thumped away over the sand. The wind pattered among dry,

broken stalks of dead ocatilla. Every little sound brought Gale to a listening pause. The gloom was thickening

fast into darkness. It would be a night without starlight. He moved forward up the pale, zigzag aisles between

the mesquite. He lost the light for a while, but the coyotes' chorus told him he was approaching the campfire.

Presently the light danced through the black branches, and soon grew into a flame. Stooping low, with bushy

mesquites between him and the fire, Gale advanced. The coyotes were in full cry. Gale heard the tramping,

stamping thumps of many hoofs. The sound worried him. Foot by foot he advanced, and finally began to

crawl. The wind favored his position, so that neither coyotes nor horses could scent him. The nearer he

approached the head of the arroyo, where the well was located, the thicker grew the desert vegetation. At

length a dead palo verde, with huge black clumps of its parasite mistletoe thick in the branches, marked a

distance from the well that Gale considered close enough. Noiselessly he crawled here and there until he

He saw a bright fire, not a cookingfire, for that would have been low and red, but a crackling blaze of

mesquite. Three men were in sight, all close to the burning sticks. They were Mexicans and of the coarse type

of raiders, rebels, bandits that Gale expected to see. One stood up, his back to the fire; another sat with

shoulders enveloped in a blanket, and the third lounged in the sand, his feet almost in the blaze. They had cast

off belts and weapons. A glint of steel caught Gale's eye. Three short, shiny carbines leaned against a rock. A

little to the left, within the circle of light, stood a square house made of adobe bricks. Several untrimmed

poles upheld a roof of brush, which was partly fallen in. This house was a Papago Indian habitation, and a

month before had been occupied by a family that had been murdered or driven off by a roving band of

outlaws. A rude corral showed dimly in the edge of firelight, and from a black mass within came the snort

Gale took in the scene in one quick glance, then sank down at the foot of the mesquite. He had naturally

expected to see more men. But the situation was by no means new. This was one, or part of one, of the raider

bands harrying the border. They were stealing horses, or driving a herd already stolen. These bands were

more numerous than the waterholes of northern Sonora; they never camped long at one place; like Arabs,

they roamed over the desert all the way from Nogales to Casita. If Gale had gone peaceably up to this

campfire there were a hundred chances that the raiders would kill and rob him to one chance that they might

not. If they recognized him as a ranger comrade of Ladd and Lash, if they got a glimpse of Blanco Sol, then

These Mexicans had evidently been at the well some time. Their horses being in the corral meant that grazing

had been done by day. Gale revolved questions in mind. Had this trio of outlaws run across Ladd? It was not

likely, for in that event they might not have been so comfortable and carefree in camp. Were they waiting

for more members of their gang? That was very probable. With Gale, however, the most important

consideration was how to get his horse to water. Sol must have a drink if it cost a fight. There was stern

reason for Gale to hurry eastward along the trail. He thought it best to go back to where he had left his horse

With the same noiseless care he had exercised in the advance, Gale retreated until it was safe for him to rise

and walk on down the arroyo. He found Blanco Sol contentedly grazing. A heavy dew was falling, and, as the

grass was abundant, the horse did not show the usual restlessness and distress after a dry and exhausting day.

Gale carried his saddle blankets and bags into the lee of a little greasewoodcovered mound, from around

which the wind had cut the soil, and here, in a wash, he risked building a small fire. By this time the wind

was piercingly cold. Gale's hands were numb and he moved them to and fro in the little blaze. Then he made

coffee in a cup cooked some slices of bacon on the end of a stick, and took a couple of hard biscuits from a

saddlebag. Of these his meal consisted. After that he removed the halter from Blanco Sol, intending to leave

Then Gale returned to his little fire, replenished it with short sticks of dead greasewood and mesquite, and,

wrapping his blanket round his shoulders he sat down to warm himself and to wait till it was time to bring in

The fire was inadequate and Gale was cold and wet with dew. Hunger and thirst were with him. His bones

ached, and there was a dull, deepseated pain throbbing in his unhealed wound. For days unshaven, his beard

seemed like a million pricking needles in his blistered skin. He was so tired that once having settled himself,

he did not move hand or foot. The night was dark, dismal, cloudy, windy, growing colder. A moan of wind in

the mesquite was occasionally pierced by the highkeyed yelp of a coyote. There were lulls in which the

silence seemed to be a thing of stifling, encroaching substancea thing that enveloped, buried the desert.

Judged by the great average of ideals and conventional standards of life, Dick Gale was a starved, lonely,

suffering, miserable wretch. But in his case the judgment would have hit only externals, would have missed

the vital inner truth. For Gale was happy with a kind of strange, wild glory in the privations, the pains, the

perils, and the silence and solitude to be endured on this desert land. In the past he had not been of any use to

himself or others; and he had never know what it meant to be hungry, cold, tired, lonely. He had never

worked for anything. The needs of the day had been provided, and tomorrow and the future looked the

In the present he used his hands, his senses, and his wits. He had a duty to a man who relied on his services.

He was a comrade, a friend, a valuable ally to riding, fighting rangers. He had spend endless days, weeks that

seemed years, alone with a horse, trailing over, climbing over, hunting over a desert that was harsh and

hostile by nature, and perilous by the invasion of savage men. That horse had become human to Gale. And

with him Gale had learned to know the simple needs of existence. Like dead scales the superficialities, the

falsities, the habits that had once meant all of life dropped off, useless things in this stern waste of rock and

Gale's happiness, as far as it concerned the toil and strife, was perhaps a grim and stoical one. But love abided

with him, and it had engendered and fostered other undeveloped traitsromance and a feeling for beauty,

and a keen observation of nature. He felt pain, but he was never miserable. He felt the solitude, but he was

As he rode across the desert, even though keen eyes searched for the moving black dots, the rising puffs of

white dust that were warnings, he saw Nell's face in every cloud. The cleancut mesas took on the shape of

her straight profile, with its strong chin and lips, its fine nose and forehead. There was always a glint of gold

or touch of red or graceful line or gleam of blue to remind him of her. Then at night her face shone warm and

Tonight, as usual, with a keen ear to the wind, Gale listened as one on guard; yet he watched the changing

phantom of a sweet face in the embers, and as he watched he thought. The desert developed and multiplied

thought. A thousand sweet faces glowed in the pink and white ashes of his campfire, the faces of other

sweethearts or wives that had gleamed for other men. Gale was happy in his thought of Nell, for Nell, for

something, when he was alone this way in the wilderness, told him she was near him, she thought of him, she

loved him. But there were many men alone on that vast southwestern plateau, and when they saw dream

faces, surely for some it was a fleeting flash, a gleam soon gone, like the hope and the name and the

happiness that had been and was now no more. Often Gale thought of those hundreds of desert travelers,

prospectors, wanderers who had ventured down the Camino del Diablo, never to be heard of again. Belding

had told him of that most terrible of all desert trailsa trail of shifting sands. Lash had traversed it, and

brought back stories of buried waterholes, of bones bleaching white in the sun, of gold mines as lost as were

the prospectors who had sought them, of the merciless Yaqui and his hatred for the Mexican. Gale thought of

this trail and the men who had camped along it. For many there had been one night, one campfire that had

been the last. This idea seemed to creep in out of the darkness, the loneliness, the silence, and to find a place

in Gale's mind, so that it had strange fascination for him. He knew now as he had never dreamed before how

men drifted into the desert, leaving behind graves, wrecked homes, ruined lives, lost wives and sweethearts.

And for every wanderer every campfire had a phantom face. Gale measured the agony of these men at their

By and by Gale remembered what he was waiting for; and, getting up, he took the halter and went out to find

Blanco Sol. It was pitchdark now, and Gale could not see a rod ahead. He felt his way, and presently as he

rounded a mesquite he saw Sol's white shape outlined against the blackness. The horse jumped and wheeled,

ready to run. It was doubtful if any one unknown to Sol could ever have caught him. Gale's low call reassured

him, and he went on grazing. Gale haltered him in the likeliest patch of grass and returned to his camp. There

he lifted his saddle into a protected spot under a low wall of the mound, and, laying one blanket on the sand,

Here he was out of reach of the wind; but he heard its melancholy moan in the mesquite. There was no other

sound. The coyotes had ceased their hungry cries. Gale dropped to sleep, and slept soundly during the first

half of the night; and after that he seemed always to be partially awake, aware of increasing cold and damp.

The dark mantle turned gray, and then daylight came quickly. The morning was clear and nipping cold. He

threw off the wet blanket and got up cramped and half frozen. A little brisk action was all that was necessary

to warm his blood and loosen his muscles, and then he was fresh, tingling, eager. The sun rose in a golden

blaze, and the descending valley took on wondrous changing hues. Then he fetched up Blanco Sol, saddled

Gale meant it. He would not eat till he had watered his horse. Sol had gone nearly fortyeight hours without a

sufficient drink, and that was long enough, even for a desertbred beast. No three raiders could keep Gale

away from that well. Taking his rifle in hand, he faced up the arroyo. Rabbits were frisking in the short

willows, and some were so tame he could have kicked them. Gale walked swiftly for a goodly part of the

distance, and then, when he saw blue smoke curling up above the trees, he proceeded slowly, with alert eye

and ear. From the lay of the land and position of trees seen by daylight, he found an easier and safer course

that the one he had taken in the dark. And by careful work he was enabled to get closer to the well, and

The Mexicans were leisurely cooking their morning meal. They had two fires, one for warmth, the other to

cook over. Gale had an idea these raiders were familiar to him. It seemed all these border hawks resembled

one anotherbeing mostly small of build, wiry, angular, swarthyfaced, and blackhaired, and they wore

the oddly styled Mexican clothes and sombreros. A slow wrath stirred in Gale as he watched the trio. They

showed not the slightest indication of breaking camp. One fellow, evidently the leader, packed a gun at his

hip, the only weapon in sight. Gale noted this with speculative eyes. The raiders had slept inside the little

adobe house, and had not yet brought out the carbines. Next Gale swept his gaze to the corral, in which he

saw more than a dozen horses, some of them fine animals. They were stamping and whistling, fighting one

another, and pawing the dirt. This was entirely natural behavior for desert horses penned in when they wanted

But suddenly one of the blacks, a big, shaggy fellow, shot up his ears and pointed his nose over the top of the

fence. He whistled. Other horses looked in the same direction, and their ears went up, and they, too, whistled.

Gale knew that other horses or men, very likely both, were approaching. But the Mexicans did not hear the

alarm, or show any interest if they did. These mescaldrinking raiders were not scouts. It was notorious how

easily they could be surprised or ambushed. Mostly they were ignorant, thickskulled peons. They were

wonderful horsemen, and could go long without food or water; but they had not other accomplishments or

attributes calculated to help them in desert warfare. They had poor sight, poor hearing, poor judgment, and

Gale saw two Indians on burros come riding up the other side of the knoll upon which the adobe house stood;

and apparently they were not aware of the presence of the Mexicans, for they came on up the path. One

Indian was a Papago. The other, striking in appearance for other reasons than that he seemed to be about to

fall from the burro, Gale took to be a Yaqui. These travelers had absolutely nothing for an outfit except a

blanket and a halfempty bag. They came over the knoll and down the path toward the well, turned a corner

Gale heard a short, shrill cry, strangely high and wild, and this came from one of the Indians. It was answered

by hoarse shouts. Then the leader of the trio, the Mexican who packed a gun, pulled it and fired pointblank.

He missed onceand again. At the third shot the Papago shrieked and tumbled off his burro to fall in a heap.

The other Indian swayed, as if the taking away of the support lent by his comrade had brought collapse, and

The reports had frightened the horses in the corral; and the vicious black, crowding the rickety bars, broke

them down. He came plunging out. Two of the Mexicans ran for him, catching him by nose and mane, and

Then, with a splendid vaulting mount, the Mexican with the gun leaped to the back of the horse. He yelled

and waved his gun, and urged the black forward. The manner of all three was savagely jocose. They were

having sport. The two on the ground began to dance and jabber. The mounted leader shot again, and then

stuck like a leech upon the bare back of the rearing black. It was a vain show of horsemanship. Then this

Mexican, by some strange grip, brought the horse down, plunging almost upon the body of the Indian that

Gale stood aghast with his rifle clutched tight. He could not divine the intention of the raider, but suspected

something brutal. The horse answered to that cruel, guiding hand, yet he swerved and bucked. He reared

aloft, pawing the air, wildly snorting, then he plunged down upon the prostrate Indian. Even in the act the

intelligent animal tried to keep from striking the body with his hoofs. But that was not possible. A yell,

The Mexican made no move to trample the body of the Papago. He turned the black to ride again over the

other Indian. That brought into Gale's mind what he had heard of a Mexican's hate for a Yaqui. It recalled the

barbarism of these savage peons, and the war of extermination being waged upon the Yaquis.

Suddenly Gale was horrified to see the Yaqui writhe and raise a feeble hand. The action brought renewed and

Gale could bear no more. He took a quick shot at the rider. He missed the moving figure, but hit the horse.

There was a bound, a horrid scream, a mighty plunge, then the horse went down, giving the Mexican a

Gale rushed from his cover to intercept the other raiders before they could reach the house and their weapons.

One fellow yelled and ran wildly in the opposite direction; the other stood stricken in his tracks. Gale ran in

close and picked up the gun that had dropped from the raider leader's hand. This fellow had begun to stir, to

come out of his stunned condition. Then the frightened horses burst the corral bars, and in a thundering,

The fallen raider sat up, mumbling to his saints in one breath, cursing in his next. The other Mexican kept his

"Go, Greasers! Run!" yelled Gale. Then he yelled it in Spanish. At the point of his rifle he drove the two

raiders out of the camp. His next move was to run into the house and fetch out the carbines. With a heavy

stone he dismantled each weapon. That done, he set out on a run for his horse. He took the shortest cut down

the arroyo, with no concern as to whether or not he would encounter the raiders. Probably such a meeting

would be all the worse for them, and they knew it. Blanco Sol heard him coming and whistled a welcome,

and when Gale ran up the horse was snorting war. Mounting, Gale rode rapidly back to the scene of the

action, and his first thought, when he arrived at the well, was to give Sol a drink and to fill his canteens.

Then Gale led his horse up out of the waterhole, and decided before remounting to have a look at the Indians.

The Papago had been shot through the heart, but the Yaqui was still alive. Moreover, he was conscious and

"Yaqui, you're done for," said Gale, and his words were positive. He was simply speaking aloud his mind.

"Yaquino hurtmuch," replied the Indian, and then he spoke a strange wordrepeated it again and

An instinct of Gale's, or perhaps some suggestion in the husky, thick whisper or dark face, told Gale to reach

for his canteen. He lifted the Indian and gave him a drink, and if ever in all his life he saw gratitude in human

eyes he saw it then. Then he examined the injured Yaqui, not forgetting for an instant to send wary, fugitive

glances on all sides. Gale was not surprised. The Indian had three woundsa bullet hole in his shoulder, a

crushed arm, and a badly lacerated leg. What had been the matter with him before being set upon by the

The ranger thought rapidly. This Yaqui would live unless left there to die or be murdered by the Mexicans

when they found courage to sneak back to the well. It never occurred to Gale to abandon the poor fellow.

That was where his old training, the higher order of human feeling, made impossible the following of any

elemental instinct of selfpreservation. All the same, Gale knew he multiplied his perils a hundredfold by

burdening himself with a crippled Indian. Swiftly he set to work, and with rifle ever under his hand, and

shifting glance spared from his task, he bound up the Yaqui's wounds. At the same time he kept keen watch.

The Indians' burros and the horses of the raiders were all out of sight. Time was too valuable for Gale to use

any in what might be a vain search. Therefore, he lifted the Yaqui upon Sol's broad shoulders and climbed

into the saddle. At a word Sol dropped his head and started eastward up the trail, walking swiftly, without

Far ahead, between two huge mesas where the trail mounted over a pass, a long line of dust clouds marked

the position of the horses that had escaped from the corral. Those that had been stolen would travel straight

and true for home, and perhaps would lead the others with them. The raiders were left on the desert without

Blanco Sol walked or jogtrotted six miles to the hour. At that gait fifty miles would not have wet or turned a

hair of his dazzling white coat. Gale, bearing in mind the everpresent possibility of encountering more

raiders and of being pursued, saved the strength of the horse. Once out of sight of Papago Well, Gale

dismounted and walked beside the horse, steadying with one firm hand the helpless, dangling Yaqui.

The sun cleared the eastern ramparts, and the coolness of morning fled as if before a magic foe. The whole

desert changed. The grays wore bright; the mesquites glistened; the cactus took the silver hue of frost, and the

rocks gleamed gold and red. Then, as the heat increased, a wind rushed up out of the valley behind Gale, and

the hotter the sun blazed down the swifter rushed the wind. The wonderful transparent haze of distance lost

its bluish hue for one with tinge of yellow. Flying sand made the peaks dimly outlined.

Gale kept pace with his horse. He bore the twinge of pain that darted through his injured hip at every stride.

His eye roved over the wide, smoky prospect seeking the landmarks he knew. When the wild and bold spurs

of No Name Mountains loomed through a rent in flying clouds of sand he felt nearer home. Another hour

brought him abreast of a dark, straight shaft rising clear from a beetling escarpment. This was a monument

marking the international boundary line. When he had passed it he had his own country under foot. In the

heat of midday he halted in the shade of a rock, and, lifting the Yaqui down, gave him a drink. Then, after a

long, sweeping survey of the surrounding desert, he removed Sol's saddle and let him roll, and took for

The Yaqui was tenacious of life. He was still holding his own. For the first time Gale really looked at the

Indian to study him. He had a large head nobly cast, and a face that resembled a shrunken mask. It seemed

chiseled in the darkred, volcanic lava of his Sooner wilderness. The Indian's eyes were always black and

mystic, but this Yaqui's encompassed all the tragic desolation of the desert. They were fixed on Gale, moved

only when he moved. The Indian was short and broad, and his body showed unusual muscular development,

Gale resumed his homeward journey. When he got through the pass he faced a great depression, as rough as

if millions of gigantic spikes had been driven by the hammer of Thor into a seamed and cracked floor. This

was Altar Valley. It was a chaos of arroyo's, canyons, rocks, and ridges all mantled with cactus, and at its

eastern end it claimed the dry bed of Forlorn River and water when there was any.

With a wounded, helpless man across the saddle, this stretch of thorny and contorted desert was practically

impassable. Yet Gale headed into it unflinchingly. He would carry the Yaqui as far as possible, or until death

make the burden no longer a duty. Blanco Sol plodded on over the dragging sand, up and down the steep,

loose banks of washes, out on the rocks, and through the rows of whitetooled choyas.

The sun sloped westward, bending fiercer heat in vengeful, parting reluctance. The wind slackened. The dust

settled. And the bold, forbidding front of No Name Mountains changed to red and gold. Gale held grimly by

the side of the tireless, implacable horse, holding the Yaqui on the saddle, taking the brunt of the merciless

thorns. In the end it became heartrending toil. His heavy chaps dragged him down; but he dared not go on

without them, for, thick and stiff as they were, the terrible, steelbayoneted spikes of the choyas pierced

To the last mile Gale held to Blanco Sol's gait and kept everwatchful gaze ahead on the trail. Then, with the

low, flat houses of Forlorn River shining red in the sunset, Gale flagged and rapidly weakened. The Yaqui

slipped out of the saddle and dropped limp in the sand. Gale could not mount his horse. He clutched Sol's

Blanco Sol whistled a piercing blast. He scented cool water and sweet alfalfa hay. Twinkling lights ahead

meant rest. The melancholy desert twilight rapidly succeeded the sunset. It accentuated the forlorn loneliness

of the gray, winding river of sand and its grayer shores. Night shadows trooped down from the black and

"A CRIPPLED Yaqui! Why the hell did you saddle yourself with him?" roared Belding, as he laid Gale upon

"Because I chose," whispered Gale, in reply. "Go after himhe dropped in the trailacross the rivernear

Belding began to swear as he fumbled with matches and the lamp; but as the light flared up he stopped short

"You said you weren't hurt?" he demanded, in sharp anxiety, as he bent over Gale.

"Sure, Dick, sure," Belding replied, in softer tones. Then he stalked out; his heels rang on the flagstones; he

opened a door and called: "Mothergirls, here's Dick back. He's done up....Now no, no, he's not hurt or in

bad shape. You women!...Do what you can to make him comfortable. I've got a little job on hand."

There were quick replies that Gale's dulling ears did not distinguish. Then it seemed Mrs. Belding was beside

his bed, her presence so cool and soothing and helpful, and Mercedes and Nell, wideeyed and whitefaced,

were fluttering around him. He drank thirstily, but refused food. He wanted rest. And with their faces drifting

away in a kind of haze, with the feeling of gentle hands about him, he lost consciousness.

He slept twenty hours. then he arose, thirsty, hungry, lame, overworn, and presently went in search of

"Your Yaqui was near dead, but guess we'll pull him through," said Belding. "Dick, the other day that Indian

came here by rail and foot and Lord only knows how else, all the way from New Orleans! He spoke English

better than most Indians, and I know a little Yaqui. I got some of his story and guessed the rest. The Mexican

government is trying to root out the Yaquis. A year ago his tribe was taken in chains to a Mexican port on the

Gulf. The fathers, mothers, children, were separated and put in ships bound for Yucatan. There they were

made slaves on the great henequen plantations. They were driven, beaten, starved. Each slave had for a day's

rations a hunk of sour dough, no more. Yucatan is low, marshy, damp, hot. The Yaquis were bred on the

high, dry Sonoran plateau, where the air is like a knife. They dropped dead in the henequen fields, and their

places were taken by more. You see, the Mexicans won't kill outright in their war of extermination of the

Yaquis. They get use out of them. It's a horrible thing....Well, this Yaqui you brought in escaped from his

captors, got aboard ship, and eventually reached New Orleans. Somehow he traveled way out here. I gave

him a bag of food, and he went off with a Papago Indian. He was a sick man then. And he must have fallen

"That raider who tried to grind the Yaqui under a horse's hoofshe was a hyena!" concluded Gale,

shuddering. "I've seen some blood spilled and some hard sights, but that inhuman devil took my nerve. Why,

"Dick, in cases like that the sooner you clean up the bunch the better," said Belding, grimly. "As for hard

sightswait till you've seen a Yaqui do up a Mexican. Bar none, that is the limit! It's blood lust, a racial hate,

deep as life, and terrible. The Spaniards crushed the Aztecs four or five hundred years ago. That hate has had

time to grow as deep as a cactus root. The Yaquis are mountain Aztecs. Personally, I think they are noble and

intelligent, and if let alone would be peaceable and industrious. I like the few I've known. But they are a

doomed race. Have you any idea what ailed this Yaqui before the raider got in his work?"

"No, I haven't. I noticed the Indian seemed in bad shape; but I couldn't tell what was the matter with him."

"Well, my idea is another personal one. Maybe it's off color. I think that Yaqui was, or is, for that matter,

dying of a broken heart. All he wanted was to get back to his mountains and die. There are no Yaquis left in

"Yes, I noticed that. But all Yaquis have a wild look. Dick, if I'm not mistaken, this fellow was a chief. It was

a waste of strength, a needless risk for you to save him, pack him back here. but, damn the whole Greaser

"Laddy didn't go out to meet you," replied Belding. "I knew you were due in any day, and, as there's been

trouble between here and Casita, I sent him that way. Since you've been out our friend Carter lost a bunch of

horses and a few steers. Did you get a good look at the horses those raiders had at Papago Well?"

Dick had learned, since he had become a ranger, to see everything with keen, sure, photographic eye; and,

being put to the test so often required of him, he described the horses as a darkcolored drove, mostly bays

"Some of Carter'ssure as you're born!" exclaimed Belding. "His bunch has been split up, divided among

several bands of raiders. He has a grass ranch up here in Three Mile Arroyo. It's a good long ride in U. S.

"Stay here and rest," bluntly replied Belding. "You need it. Let the women fuss over youdoctor you a little.

When Jim gets back from Sonoyta I'll know more about what we ought to do. By Lord! it seems our job now

isn't keeping Japs and Chinks out of the U. S. It's keeping our property from going into Mexico."

"Letters! Say, my boy, it'd take something pretty important to get me or any man here back Casita way. If the

town is safe these days the road isn't. It's a month now since any one went to Casita."

Gale had received several letters from his sister Elsie, the last of which he had not answered. There had not

been much opportunity for writing on his infrequent returns to Forlorn River; and, besides, Elsie had written

that her father had stormed over what he considered Dick's falling into wild and evil ways.

"Time flies," said Dick. "George Thorne will be free before long, and he'll be coming out. I wonder if he'll

"Well, he'll stay right here in Forlorn River, if I have any say," replied Belding. "I'd like to know how he'd

ever get that Spanish girl out of the country now, with all the trails overrun by rebels and raiders. It'd be hard

to disguise her. Say, Dick, maybe we can get Thorne to stay here. You know, since you've discovered the

possibility of a big water supply, I've had dreams of a future for Forlorn River....If only this war was over!

Dick, that's what it iswarscattered war along the northern border of Mexico from gulf to gulf. What if it

isn't our war? We're on the fringe. No, we can't develop Forlorn River until there's peace."

The discovery that Belding alluded to was one that might very well lead to the making of a wonderful and

agricultural district of Altar Valley. While in college Dick Gale had studied engineering, but he had not set

the scientific world afire with his brilliance. Nor after leaving college had he been able to satisfy his father

that he could hold a job. Nevertheless, his smattering of engineering skill bore fruit in the last place on earth

where anything might have been expected of itin the desert. Gale had always wondered about the source of

Forlorn River. No white man or Mexican, or, so far as known, no Indian, had climbed those mighty broken

steps of rock called No Name Mountains, from which Forlorn River was supposed to come. Gale had

discovered a long, narrow, rockbottomed and rockwalled gulch that could be dammed at the lower end by

the dynamiting of leaning cliffs above. An inexhaustible supply of water could be stored there. Furthermore,

he had worked out an irrigation plan to bring the water down for mining uses, and to make a paradise out of

that part of Altar Valley which lay in the United States. Belding claimed there was gold in the arroyos, gold

in the gulches, not in quantities to make a prospector rejoice, but enough to work for. And the soil on the

higher levels of Altar Valley needed only water to make it grow anything the year round. Gale, too, had come

On the afternoon of the following day Ladd unexpectedly appeared leading a lame and lathered horse into the

yard. Belding and Gale, who were at work at the forge, looked up and were surprised out of speech. The legs

of the horse were raw and red, and he seemed about to drop. Ladd's sombrero was missing; he wore a bloody

scarf round his head; sweat and blood and dust had formed a crust on his face; little streams of powdery dust

slid from him; and the lower half of his scarred chaps were full of broken white thorns.

"Where'n hell's your hat?" demanded Belding, furiously. It was a ridiculous greeting. But Belding's words

signified little. The dark shade of worry and solicitude crossing his face told more than his black amaze.

The ranger stopped unbuckling the saddle girths, and, looking at Belding, broke into his slow, cool laugh.

"Tom, you recollect that whopper of a saguaro up here where Carter's trail branches off the main trail to

"You've been runningfighting?" queried Belding, as if Ladd had not spoken at all.

"Shore, Tom, in a minute. I've been down the road. An' I found hoss tracks an' steer tracks goin' across the

line. But I seen no sign of raiders till this mornin'. Slept at Carter's last night. That raid the other day cleaned

him out. He's shootin' mad. Well, this mornin' I rode plumb into a bunch of Carter's hosses, runnin' wild for

home. Some Greasers were tryin' to head them round an' chase them back across the line. I rode in between

an' made matters embarrassin'. Carter's hosses got away. Then me an' the Greasers had a little game of hide

an' seek in the cactus. I was on the wrong side, an' had to break through their line to head toward home. We

"Laddy, you wouldn't have any such close calls if you'd ride one of my horses," expostulated Belding. "This

broncho of yours can run, and Lord knows he's game. But you want a big, strong horse, Mexican bred, with

"I had a big, fast horse a while back, but I lost him," said Ladd. "This bronch ain't so bad. Shore Bull an' that

white devil with his Greaser namethey could run down my bronch, kill him in a mile of cactus. But,

somehow, Tom, I can't make up my mind to take one of them grand white hosses. Shore I reckon I'm kinda

Belding cursed low and deep in his throat, and the sound resembled muttering thunder. The shade of anxiety

on his face changed to one of dark gloom and passion. Next to his wife and daughter there was nothing so

dear to him as those white horses. His father and grandfatherall his progenitors of whom he had

"Shore man, you're crazy. Ther's no water, no grass for a hundred miles. I'll tell you, Tom, the safest plan

would be to take the white bunch south into Sonora, into some wild mountain valley. Keep them there till the

raiders have traveled on back east. Pretty soon there won't be any rich pickin' left for these Greasers. An' then

"Laddy, I don't know the trails into Sonora. An' I can't trust a Mexican or a Papago. Between you and me, I'm

"I reckon we'd better stick here, Tom....Dick, it's some good to see you again. But you seem kinda quiet.

Shore you get quieter all the time. Did you see any sign of Jim out Sonoyta way?"

Then Belding led the lame horse toward the wateringtrough, while the two rangers went toward the house,

Dick was telling Ladd about the affair at Papago Well when they turned the corner under the porch. Nell was

"Now I'll get it," whispered Ladd. "The women'll make a baby of me. An' shore I can't help myself."

"Oh, Laddy, you've been hurt!" cried Nell, as with white cheeks and dilating eyes she ran to him and caught

"Oh, Laddy, don't lie! You've lied before. I know you're hurt. Come in to mother."

"Laddy, no horse every threw you." The girl's words and accusing eyes only hurried the ranger on to further

"You've been shot!...Mama, here's Laddy, and he's been shot!....Oh, these dreadful days we're having! I can't

bear them! Forlorn River used to be so safe and quiet. Nothing happened. But now! Jim comes home with a

bloody hole in himthen Dickthen Laddy!....Oh, I'm afraid some day they'll never come home."

The morning was bright, still, and clear as crystal. The heat waves had not yet begun to rise from the desert.

A soft gray, white, and green tint perfectly blended lay like a mantle over mesquite and sand and cactus. The

Nell sat perched high upon the topmost bar of the corral gate. Dick leaned beside her, now with his eyes on

her face, now gazing out into the alfalfa field where Belding's thoroughbreds grazed and pranced and romped

and whistled. Nell watched the horses. She loved them, never tired of watching them. But her gaze was too

consciously averted from the yearning eyes that tried to meet hers to be altogether natural.

A great fenced field of dark velvety green alfalfa furnished a rich background for the drove of about twenty

white horses. Even without the horses the field would have presented a striking contrast to the surrounding

hot, glaring blaze of rock and sand. Belding had bred a hundred or more horses from the original stock he had

brought up from Durango. His particular interest was in the almost unblemished whites, and these he had

given especial care. He made a good deal of money selling this strain to friends among the ranchers back in

Texas. No mercenary consideration, however, could have made him part with the great, rangy white horses

he had gotten from the Durango breeder. He called them Blanco Diablo (White Devil), Blanco Sol (White

Sun), Blanca Reina (White Queen), Blanca Mujer (White Woman), and El Gran Toro Blanco (The Big White

Bull). Belding had been laughed at by ranchers for preserving the sentimental Durango names, and he had

Blanco Diablo was the only horse in the field that was not free to roam and graze where he listed. A stake and

a halter held him to one corner, where he was severely let alone by the other horses. He did not like this

isolation. Blanco Diablo was not happy unless he was running, or fighting a rival. Of the two he would rather

fight. If anything white could resemble a devil, this horse surely did. He had nothing beautiful about him, yet

he drew the gaze and held it. The look of him suggested discontent, anger, revolt, viciousness. When he was

not grazing or prancing, he held his long, lean head level, pointing his nose and showing his teeth. Belding's

favorite was almost all the world to him, and he swore Diablo could stand more heat and thirst and cactus

than any other horse he owned, and could run down and kill any horse in the Southwest. The fact that Ladd

did not agree with Belding on these salient points was a great disappointment, and also a perpetual source for

argument. Ladd and Lash both hated Diablo; and Dick Gale, after one or two narrow escapes from being

El Gran Toro Blanco upheld his name. He was a huge, massive, thickflanked stallion, a kingly mate for his

fullbodied, glossy consort, Blanca Reina. The other mare, Blanca Mujer, was dazzling white, without a spot,

perfectly pointed, racy, graceful, elegant, yet carrying weight and brawn and range that suggested her relation

The cowboys admitted some of Belding's claims for Diablo, but they gave loyal and unshakable allegiance to

Blanco Sol. As for Dick, he had to fight himself to keep out of arguments, for he sometimes imagined he was

unreasonable about the horse. Though he could not understand himself, he knew he loved Sol as a man loved

a friend, a brother. Free of heavy saddle and the clumsy leg shields, Blanco Sol was somehow allsatisfying

to the eyes of the rangers. As long and big as Diablo was, Sol was longer and bigger. Also, he was higher,

more powerful. He looked more a thing for actionspeedier. At a distance the honorable scars and lumps

that marred his muscular legs were not visible. He grazed aloof from the others, and did not cavort nor

prance; but when he lifted his head to whistle, how wild he appeared, and proud and splendid! The dazzling

whiteness of the desert sun shone from his coat; he had the fire and spirit of the desert in his noble head, its

Nell laughed. "I saw it, too. For that matter, even I have made Sol put his nose before Dad's favorite."

"Oh, I'm glad you mean that," said Dick, laughing. "Well, I've often wondered how Belding ever came to

"Would he? Not Devil or Queen or White Woman. Never in this world! But Dad has lots of fast horses the

boys could pick from. Dick, I tell you Dad wants Blanco Sol to run himself outlose his speed on the desert.

"Maybe. He surely has strange passion for horses. I think I understand better than I used to. I owned a couple

"Do you love him?" asked Nell; and now a warm, blue flash of eyes swept his face.

"I'm glad. Sol has been finer, a better horse since you owned him. He loves you, Dick. He's always watching

for you. See him raise his head. That's for you. I know as much about horses as Dad or Laddy any day. Sol

"Yes. Sometimes when I get blueas I am todayI think I'll go. But, in sober truth, Nell, it's not likely

There was no answer to this. Dick put his hand softly over hers; and, despite her halfhearted struggle to free

Her color fled. He saw her lips part. Then a heavy step on the gravel, a cheerful, complaining voice

interrupted him, and made him release Nell and draw back. Belding strode into view round the adobe shed.

"Hey, Dick, that darned Yaqui Indian can't be driven or hired or coaxed to leave Forlorn River. He's well

"It doesn't strike me funny. But I'll tell you what I think. That poor, homeles, heartbroken Indian has taken a

liking to you, Dick. These desert Yaquis are strange folk. I've heard strange stories about them. I'd believe

'most anything. And that's how I figure his case. You saved his life. That sort of thing counts big with any

Indian, even with an Apache. With a Yaqui maybe it's of deep significance. I've heard a Yaqui say that with

his tribe no debt to friend or foe ever went unpaid. Perhaps that's what ails this fellow."

"Dick, don't laugh," said Nell. "I've noticed the Yaqui. It's pathetic the way his great gloomy eyes follow

"You've made a friend," continued Belding. "A Yaqui could be a real friend on this desert. If he gets his

strength back he'll be of service to you, don't mistake me. He's welcome here. But you're responsible for him,

and you'll have trouble keeping him from massacring all the Greasers in Forlorn River."

The probability of a visit from the raiders, and a dash bolder than usual on the outskirts of a ranch, led

Belding to build a new corral. It was not sightly to the eye, but it was high and exceedingly strong. The gate

was a massive affair, swinging on huge hinges and fastening with heavy chains and padlocks. On the outside

it had been completely covered with barb wire, which would make it a troublesome thing to work on in the

At night Belding locked his white horses in this corral. The Papago hersman slept in the adobe shed

adjoining. Belding did not imagine that any wooden fence, however substantially built, could keep

determined raiders from breaking it down. They would have to take time, however, and make considerable

noise; and Belding relied on these facts. Belding did not believe a band of night raiders would hold out

against a hot rifle fire. So he began to make up some of the sleep he had lost. It was noteworthy, however,

Jim Lash rode in, reporting that all was well out along the line toward the Sonoyta Oasis. Days passed, and

Belding kept his rangers home. Nothing was heard of raiders at hand. Many of the newcomers, both

American and Mexican, who came with wagons and pack trains from Casita stated that property and life were

One January morning Dick Gale was awakened by a shrill, menacing cry. He leaped up bewildered and

frightened. He heard Belding's booming voice answering shouts, and rapid steps on flagstones. But these had

not awakened him. Heavy breaths, almost sobs, seemed at his very door. In the cold and gray dawn Dick saw

something white. Gun in hand, he bounded across the room. Just ouside his door stood Blanco Sol.

It was not unusual for Sol to come poking his head in at Dick's door during daylight. But now in the early

dawn, when he had been locked in the corral, it meant raidersno less. Dick called softly to the snorting

horse; and, hurriedly getting into clothes and boots, he went out with a gun in each hand. Sol was quivering

in every muscle. Like a dog he followed Dick around the house. Hearing shouts in the direction of the corrals,

"I cain't say just what has come off," replied Lash. "I've got the Bull. Found him runnin' in the yard."

They reached the corral to find Belding shaking, roaring like a madman. The gate was open, the corral was

"Shore. They've flown the coop, you can gamble on that. Tom, where's the Papago?" said Ladd.

"Doublecrossed us, eh? I see here's a crowbar lyin' by the gatepost. That Indian fetched it from the forge. It

was used to pry out the bolts an' steeples. Tom, I reckon there wasn't much time lost forcin' that gate."

Belding, in shirt sleeves and barefooted, roared with rage. He said he had heard the horses running as he

"Hear him! He came thunderin' right under my window. I jumped up in bed, an' when he let out that blast Jim

lit square in the middle of the floor, an' I was scared stiff. Dick, seein' it was your room he blew into, what

"Boys, I'll bet Sol spilled a few raiders if any got hands on him," said Jim. "Now, let's sit down an' wait for

daylight. It's my idea we'll find some of the hosses runnin' loose. Tom, you go an' get some clothes on. It's

Daylight made clear some details of the raid. The cowboys found tracks of eight raiders coming up from the

river bed where their horses had been left. Evidently the Papago had been false to his trust. He few personal

belongings were gone. Lash was correct in his idea of finding more horses loose in the fields. The men soon

rounded up eleven of the whites, all more or less frightened, and among the number were Queen and Blanca

Mujer. The raiders had been unable to handle more than one horse for each man. It was bitter irony of fate

that Belding should lose his favorite, the one horse more dear to him than all the others. Somewhere out on

"Lucky ain't enough word," replied Ladd. "You see, it was this way. Some of the raiders piled over the fence

while the others worked on the gate. Mebbe the Papago went inside to pick out the best hosses. But it didn't

work except with Diablo, an' how they ever got him I don't know. I'd have gambled it'd take all of eight men

Belding was unconsolable. He cursed and railed, and finally declared he was going to trail the raiders.

"Laddy, you're right," he replied, presently. "I've got to stand it. I can't leave the women and my property. But

it's sure tough. I'm sore way down deep, and nothin' but blood would ever satisfy me."

"Shore I don't know yet....Give me a light for my pipe. An' Dick, go fetch out your Yaqui."

THE Yaqui's strange dark glance roved over the corral, the swinging gate with its broken fastenings, the

"I think he means my herder," added Belding. "If he does, that settles any doubt it might be decent to

The Yaqui spread wide his hands. Then he bent over the tracks in the road. They led everywhither, but

gradually he worked out of the thick net to take the trail that the cowboys had followed down to the river.

Belding and the rangers kept close at his heels. Occasionally Dick lent a helping hand to the still feeble

Indian. He found a trampled spot where the raiders had left their horses. From this point a deeply defined

Belding asked the Yaqui where the raiders would head for in the Sonora Desert. For answer the Indian

followed the trail across the stream of sand, through willows and mesquite, up to the level of rock and cactus.

At this point he halted. A sandfilled, almost obliterated trail led off to the left, and evidently went round to

the east of No Name Mountains. To the right stretched the road toward Papago Well and the Sonoyta Oasis.

The trail of the raiders took a southeasterly course over untrodden desert. The Yaqui spoke in his own tongue,

"Think he means slow march," said Belding. "Laddy, from the looks of that trail the Greasers are having

"Tom, shore a boy could see that," replied Laddy. "Ask Yaqui to tell us where the raiders are headin', an' if

It was wonderful to see the Yaqui point. His dark hand stretched, he sighted over his stretched finger at a low

white escarpment in the distance. Then with a stick he traced a line in the sand, and then at the end of that

another line at right angles. He made crosses and marks and holes, and as he drew the rude map he talked in

Yaqui, in Spanish; with a word here and there in English. Belding translated as best he could. The raiders

were heading southeast toward the railroad that ran from Nogales down into Sonora. It was four days' travel,

bad trail, good sure waterhole one day out; then water not sure for two days. Raiders traveling slow; bothered

by too many horses, not looking for pursuit; were never pursued, could be headed and ambushed that night at

The men returned to the ranch. The rangers ate and drank while making hurried preparations for travel.

Blanco Sol and the cowboys' horses were fed, watered, and saddled. Ladd again refused to ride one of

"Shore I want a gun that'll outshoot the dinky little carbines an' muskets used by the rebels. Trot one out an'

"I've got a .405, a longbarreled heavy rifle that'll shoot a mile. I use it for mountain sheep. But Laddy, it'll

"His back won't break so easy....Dick, take plenty of shells for your Remington. An' don't forget your field

In less than an hour after the time of the raid the three rangers, heavily armed and superbly mounted on fresh

horses, rode out on the trail. As Gale turned to look back from the far bank of Forlorn River, he saw Nell

waving a white scarf. He stood high in his stirrups and waved his sombrero. Then the mesquites hid the girl's

They rode in single file with Ladd in the lead. He did not keep to the trail of the raiders all the time. He made

short cuts. The raiders were traveling leisurely, and they evinced a liking for the most level and least

cactuscovered stretches of ground. But the cowboy took a beeline course for the white escarpment pointed

out by the Yaqui; and nothing save deep washes and impassable patches of cactus or rocks made him swerve

from it. He kept the broncho at a steady walk over the rougher places and at a swinging Indian canter over the

hard and level ground. The sun grew hot and the wind began to blow. Dust clouds rolled along the blue

horizon. Whirling columns of sand, like water spouts at sea, circled up out of white arid basins, and swept

away and spread aloft before the wind. The escarpment began to rise, to change color, to show breaks upon

Whenever the rangers rode out on the brow of a knoll or ridge or an eminence, before starting to descend,

Ladd required of Gale a long, careful, sweeping survey of the desert ahead through the field glass. There were

streams of white dust to be seen, streaks of yellow dust, trailing low clouds of sand over the glistening dunes,

but no steadily rising, uniformly shaped puffs that would tell a tale of moving horses on the desert.

At noon the rangers got out of the thick cactus. Moreover, the gravelbottomed washes, the low weathering,

rotting ledges of yellow rock gave place to hard sandy rolls and bare clay knolls. The desert resembled a

rounded hummocky sea of color. All light shades of blue and pink and yellow and mauve were there

dominated by the glaring white sun. Mirages glistened, wavered, faded in the shimmering waves of heat.

The rangers rode on and the escarpment began to loom. The desert floor inclined perceptibly upward. When

Gale got an unobstructed view of the slope of the escarpment he located the raiders and horses. In another

hour's travel the rangers could see with naked eyes a long, faint moving streak of black and white dots.

"They're headin' for that yellow pass," said Ladd, pointing to a break in the eastern end of the escarpment.

"When they get out of sight we'll rustle. I'm thinkin' that waterhole the Yaqui spoke of lays in the pass."

The rangers traveled swiftly over the remaining miles of level desert leading to the ascent of the escarpment.

When they achieved the gateway of the pass the sun was low in the west. Dwarfed mesquite and greasewood

appeared among the rocks. Ladd gave the word to tie up horses and go forward on foot.

The narrow neck of the pass opened and descended into a valley half a mile wide, perhaps twice that in

length. It had apparently unscalable slopes of weathered rock leading up to beetling walls. With floor bare

and hard and white, except for a patch of green mesquite near the far end it was a lurid and desolate spot, the

"Keep down, boys" said Ladd. "There's the waterhole an' hosses have sharp eyes. Shore the Yaqui figgered

Both white and black horses showed against the green, and a thin curling column of blue smoke rose lazily

"Let me figger some. Dick, what do you make of the outlet to this hole? Looks rough to me."

With his glass Gale studied the narrow construction of walls and roughened rising floor.

"Shore that's hard enough. Let me have a look....Well, boys, it don't take no figgerin' for this job. Jim, I'll

"Soon as it's light enough in the mornin'. That Greaser outfit will hang till tomorrow. There's no sure water

"I reckon I can slip through to the other end after dark," said Lash, thoughtfully. "It might get me in bad to go

The rangers stole back from the vantage point and returned to their horses, which they untied and left farther

round among broken sections of cliff. For the horses it was a dry, hungry camp, but the rangers built a fire

The location was high, and through a break in the jumble of rocks the great colored void of desert could be

seen rolling away endlessly to the west. The sun set, and after it had gone down the golden tips of mountains

Jim Lash rolled in his saddle blanket, his feet near the fire, and went to sleep. Ladd told Gale to do likewise

while he kept the fire up and waited until it was late enough for Jim to undertake circling round the raiders.

When Gale awakened the night was dark, cold, windy. The stars shone with white brilliance. Jim was up

saddling his horse, and Ladd was talking low. When Gale rose to accompany them both rangers said he need

not go. But Gale wanted to go because that was the thing Ladd or Jim would have done.

With Ladd leading, they moved away into the gloom. Advance was exceedingly slow, careful, silent. Under

the walls the blackness seemed impenetrable. The horse was as cautious as his master. Ladd did not lose his

way, nevertheless he wound between blocks of stone and clumps of mesquite, and often tried a passage to

abandon it. Finally the trail showed pale in the gloom, and eastern stars twinkled between the lofty ramparts

The advance here was still as stealthily made as before, but not so difficult or slow. When the dense gloom of

the pass lightened, and there was a wide space of sky and stars overhead, Ladd halted and stood silent a

"Luck again!" he whispered. "The wind's in your face, Jim. The horses won't scent you. Go slow. Don't crack

a stone. Keep close under the wall. Try to get up as high as this at the other end. Wait till daylight before

Ladd's cool, easy speech was scarcely significant of the perilous undertaking. Lash moved very slowly away,

leading his horse. The soft pads of hoofs ceased to sound about the time the gray shape merged into the black

But Dick tarried a moment. He wanted a fuller sense of that ebonybottomed abyss, with its pale encircling

walls reaching up to the dusky blue sky and the brilliant stars. There was absolutely no sound.

He retraced his steps down, soon coming up with Ladd; and together they picked a way back through the

winding recesses of cliff. The campfire was smoldering. Ladd replenished it and lay down to get a few hours'

sleep, while Gale kept watch. The after part of the night wore on till the paling of stars, the thickening of

gloom indicated the dark hour before dawn. The spot was secluded from wind, but the air grew cold as ice.

Gale spent the time stripping wood from a dead mesquite, in pacing to and fro, in listening. Blanco Sol

stamped occasionally, which sound was all that broke the stilliness. Ladd awoke before the faintest gray

appeared. The rangers ate and drank. When the black did lighten to gray they saddled the horses and led them

out to the pass and down to the point where they had parted with Lash. Here they awaited daylight.

To Gale it seemed long in coming. Such a delay always aggravated the slow fire within him. He had nothing

of Ladd's patience. He wanted action. The gray shadow below thinned out, and the patch of mesquite made a

Still Ladd waited. He grew more silent, grimmer as the time of action approached. Gale wondered what the

The valley grew clear of gray shadow except under leaning walls on the eastern side. Then a straight column

of smoke rose from among the mesquites. Manifestly this was what Ladd had been awaiting. He took the

long .405 from its sheath and tried the lever. Then he lifted a cartridge belt from the pommel of his saddle.

Every ring held a shell and these shells were four inches long. He buckled the belt round him.

Ladd led the way down the slope until he reached a position that commanded the rising of the trail from a

level. It was the only place a man or horse could leave the valley for the pass.

"Dick, here's your stand. If any raider rides in range take a crack at him....Now I want the lend of your hoss."

"Blanco Sol!" exclaimed Gale, more in amazement that Ladd should ask for the horse than in reluctance to

A smile momentarily chased the dark cold gloom that had set upon the ranger's lean face.

"Shore I appreciate it, Dick. I know how you care for that hoss. I guess mebbe Charlie Ladd has loved a hoss!

An' one not so good as Sol. I was only tryin' your nerve, Dick, askin' you without tellin' my plan. Sol won't

get a scratch, you can gamble on that! I'll ride him down into the valley an' pull the greasers out in the open.

They've got shortranged carbines. They can't keep out of range of the .405, an' I'll be takin' the dust of their

"Laddy! You'll run Sol away from the raiders when they chase you? Run him after them when they try to get

"Shore. I'll run all the time. They can't gain on Sol, an' he'll run them down when I want. Can you beat it?"

"I reckon that's the one weak place in my plan. I'm figgerin' they'll never think of that till it's too late. But if

Ladd's strange hate of the horse showed in the passion of his last words, in his hardening jaw and grim set

"All right. But, by God, if I get a chance I'll make Blanco Sol run him off his legs!"

He spoke no more and set about changing the length of Sol's stirrups. When he had them adjusted to suit he

mounted and rode down the trail and out upon the level. He rode leisurely as if merely going to water his

Gale securely tied the other horse to a mesquite at hand, and took a position behind a low rock over which he

could easily see and shoot when necessary. He imagined Jim Lash in a similar position at the far end of the

valley blocking the outlet. Gale had grown accustomed to danger and the hard and fierce feelings peculiar to

it. But the coming drama was so peculiarly different in promise from all he had experienced, that he waited

the moment of action with thrilling intensity. In him stirred long, brooding wrath at these border

raidersaffection for Belding, and keen desire to avenge the outrages he had sufferedwarm admiration for

the cold, implacable Ladd and his absolute fearlessness, and a curious throbbing interest in the old,

muchdiscussed and neverdecided argument as to whether Blanco Sol was fleeter, stronger horse than

Blanco Diablo. Gale felt that he was to see a race between these great rivalsthe kind of race that made men

Ladd rode a quarter of a mile out upon the flat before anything happened. Then a whistle rent the still, cold

air. A horse had seen or scented Blanco Sol. The whistle was prolonged, faint, but clear. It made the blood

thrum in Gale's ears. Sol halted. His head shot up with the old, wild, spirited sweep. Gale leveled his glass at

the patch of mesquites. He saw the raiders running to an open place, pointing, gesticulating. The glass

brought them so close that he saw the dark faces. Suddenly they broke and fled back among the trees. Then

he got only white and dark gleams of moving bodies. Evidently that moment was one of boots, guns, and

Lowering the glass, Gale saw that Blanco Sol had started forward again. His gait was now a canter, and he

had covered another quarter of a mile before horses and raiders appeared upon the outskirts of the mesquites.

Then Blanco Sol stopped. His shrill, ringing whistle came distinctly to Gale's ears. The raiders were mounted

on dark horses, and they stood abreast in a motionless line. Gale chuckled as he appreciated what a puzzle the

situation presented for them. A lone horseman in the middle of the valley did not perhaps seem so menacing

Then Gale saw a raider gallop swiftly from the group toward the farther outlet of the valley. This might have

been owing to characteristic cowardice; but it was more likely a move of the raiders to make sure of retreat.

Undoubtedly Ladd saw this galloping horseman. A few waiting moments ensued. The galloping horseman

reached the slope, began to climb. With naked eyes Gale saw a puff of white smoke spring out of the rocks.

Then the raider wheeled his plunging horse back to the level, and went racing wildly down the valley.

The compact bunch of bays and blacks seemed to break apart and spread rapidly from the edge of the

mesquites. Puffs of white smoke indicated firing, and showed the nature of the raiders' excitement. They were

far out of ordinary range, but they spurred toward Ladd, shooting as they rode. Ladd held his ground; the big

white horse stood like a rock in his tracks. Gale saw little spouts of dust rise in front of Blanco Sol and spread

swift as sight to his rear. The raiders' bullets, striking low, were skipping along the hard, bare floor of the

valley. Then Ladd raised the long rifle. There was no smoke, but three high, spanging reports rang out. A gap

opened in the dark line of advancing horsemen; then a riderless steed sheered off to the right. Blanco Sol

seemed to turn as on a pivot and charged back toward the lower end of the valley. He circled over to Gale's

right and stretched out into his run. There were now five raiders in pursuit, and they came sweeping down,

yelling and shooting, evidently sure of their quarry. Ladd reserved his fire. He kept turning from back to front

Gale saw how the space widened between pursuers and pursued, saw distinctly when Ladd eased up Sol's

running. Manifestly Ladd intended to try to lead the raiders round in front of Gale's position, and, presently,

Gale saw he was going to succeed. The raiders, riding like vaqueros, swept on in a curve, cutting off what

distance they could. One fellow, a small, wiry rider, high on his mount's neck like a jockey, led his

companions by many yards. He seemed to be getting the range of Ladd, or else he shot high, for his bullets

did not strike up the dust behind Sol. Gale was ready to shoot. Blanco Sol pounded by, his rapid, rhythmic

Gale tried to still the jump of heart and pulse, and turned his eye again on the nearest pursuer. This raider was

crossing in, his carbine held muzzle up in his right hand, and he was coming swiftly. It was a long shot,

upward of five hundred yards. Gale had not time to adjust the sights of the Remington, but he knew the gun

and, holding coarsely upon the swiftly moving blot, he began to shoot. The first bullet sent up a great splash

of dust beneath the horse's nose, making him leap as if to hurdle a fence. The rifle was automatic; Gale

needed only to pull the trigger. He saw now that the raiders behind were in line. Swiftly he worked the

trigger. Suddenly the leading horse leaped convulsively, not up nor aside, but straight ahead, and then he

crashed to the ground throwing his rider like a catapult, and then slid and rolled. He half got up, fell back, and

The other rangers sawed the reins of plunging steeds and whirled to escape the unseen battery. Gale slipped a

fresh clip into the magazine of his rifle. He restrained himself from useless firing and gave eager eye to the

duel below. Ladd began to shoot while Sol was running. The .405 rang out sharplythen again. The heavy

bullets streaked the dust all the way across the valley. Ladd aimed deliberately and pulled slowly, unmindful

of the kicking dustpuffs behind Sol, and to the side. The raiders spurred madly in pursuit, loading and firing.

They shot ten times while Ladd shot once, and all in vain; and on Ladd's sixth shot a raider topped backward,

threw his carbine and fell with his foot catching in a stirrup. The frightened horse plunged away, dragging

Gale had set himself to miss nothing of that fighting race, yet the action passed too swiftly for clear sight of

all. Ladd had emptied a magazine, and now Blanco Sol quickened and lengthened his running stride. He ran

away from his pursuers. Then it was that the ranger's ruse was divined by the raiders. They hauled sharply up

and seemed to be conferring. But that was a fatal mistake. Blanco Sol was seen to break his gait and slow

down in several jumps, then square away and stand stockstill. Ladd fired at the closely grouped raiders. An

instant passed. Then Gale heard the spat of a bullet out in front, saw a puff of dust, then heard the lead strike

the rocks and go whining away. And it was after this that one of the raiders fell prone from his saddle. The

steeljacketed .405 had gone through him on its uninterrupted way to hum past Gale's positon.

The remaining two raiders frantically spurred their horses and fled up the valley. Ladd sent Sol after them. It

seemed to Gale, even though he realized his excitement, that Blanco Sol made those horses seem like snails.

The raiders split, one making for the eastern outlet, the other circling back of the mesquites. Ladd kept on

after the latter. Then puffs of white smoke and rifle shots faintly crackling told Jim Lash's hand in the game.

However, he succeeded only in driving the raider back into the valley. But Ladd had turned the other

horseman, and now it appeared the two raiders were between Lash above on the stony slope and Ladd below

on the level. There was desperate riding on part of the raiders to keep from being hemmed in closer. Only one

of them got away, and he came riding for life down under the eastern wall. Blanco Sol settled into his

graceful, beautiful swing. He gained steadily, though he was far from extending himself. By Gale's actual

count the raider fired eight times in that race down the valley, and all his bullets went low and wide. He

Some few hundred rods to the left of Gale the raider put his horse to the weathered slope. He began to climb.

The horse was superb, infinitely more courageous than his rider. Zigzag they went up and up, and when Ladd

reached the edge of the slope they were high along the cracked and guttered rampart. Oncetwice Ladd

raised the long rifle, but each time he lowered it. Gale divined that the ranger's restraint was not on account of

the Mexican, but for that valiant and faithful horse. Up and up he went, and the yellow dust clouds rose, and

an avalanche rolled rattling and cracking down the slope. It was beyond belief that a horse, burdened or

unburdened, could find footing and hold it upon that wall of narrow ledges and inverted, slanting gullies. But

he climbed on, surefooted as a mountain goat, and, surmounting the last rough steps, he stood a moment

silhouetted against the white sky. Then he disappeared. Ladd sat astride Blanco Sol gazing upward. How the

Gale, who had been too dumb to shout the admiration he felt, suddenly leaped up, and his voice came with a

A big horse, like a white streak, was bearing down to the right of the ranger. Blanco Diablo! A matchless

rider swung with the horse's motion. Gale was stunned. Then he remembered the first raider, the one Lash

had shot at and driven away from the outlet. This fellow had made for the mesquite and had put a saddle on

Belding's favorite. In the heat of the excitement, while Ladd had been intent upon the climbing horse, this last

raider had come down with the speed of the wind straight for the western outlet. Perhaps, very probably, he

did not know Gale was there to block it; and certainly he hoped to pass Ladd and Blanco Sol.

A touch of the spur made Sol lunge forward to head off the raider. Diablo was in his stride, but the distance

and angle favored Sol. The raider had no carbine. He held aloft a gun ready to level it and fire. He sat the

saddle as if it were a stationary seat. Gale saw Ladd lean down and drop the .405 in the sand. He would take

Then Gale sat transfixed with suspended breath watching the horses thundering toward him. Blanco Diablo

was speeding low, fleet as an antelope, fierce and terrible in his devilish action, a horse for war and blood and

death. He seemed unbeatable. Yet to see the magnificently running Blanco Sol was but to court a doubt. Gale

stood spellbound. He might have shot the raider; but he never thought of such a thing. The distance swiftly

lessened. Plain it was the raider could not make the opening ahead of Ladd. He saw it and swerved to the left,

emptying his sixshooter as he turned. His dark face gleamed as he flashed by Gale.

Blanco Sol thundered across. Then the race became straight away up the valley. Diablo was cold and Sol was

hot; therein lay the only handicap and vantage. It was a fleet, beautiful, magnificent race. Gale thrilled and

exulted and yelled as his horse settled into a steadily swifter run and began to gain. The dust rolled in a

funnelshaped cloud from the flying hoofs. The raider wheeled with gun puffing white, and Ladd ducked low

The gap between Diablo and Sol narrowed yard by yard. At first it had been a wide one. The raider beat his

mount and spurred, beat and spurred, wheeled round to shoot, then bent forward again. In his circle at the

All the devil that was in Blanco Diablo had its running on the downward stretch. The strange, cruel urge of

bit and spur, the crazed rider who stuck like a burr upon him, the shots and smoke added terror to his natural

violent temper. He ran himself off his feet. But he could not elude that relentless horse behind him. The

running of Blanco Sol was that of a sure, remorseless driving powersteadierstrongerswifter with

The raider tried to sheer Diablo off closer under the wall, to make the slope where his companion had

escaped. But Diablo was uncontrollable. He was running wild, with breaking gait. Closer and closer crept that

Then, like one white flash following another, the two horses gleamed down the bank of a wash and

Gale watched with strained and smarting eyes. The thick throb in his ears was pierced by faint sounds of

Suddenly something whiter than the background of dust appeared above the low roll of valley floor. Gale

leveled his glass. In the clear circle shone Blanco Sol's noble head with its long black bar from ears to nose.

NO man ever had a more eloquent and beautiful pleader for his cause than had Dick Gale in Mercedes

Castaneda. He peeped through the green, shining twigs of the palo verde that shaded his door. The hour was

high noon, and the patio was sultry. The only sounds were the hum of bees in the flowers and the low

murmur of the Spanish girl's melodious voice. Nell lay in the hammock, her hands behind her head, with rosy

cheeks and arch eyes. Indeed, she looked rebellious. Certain it was, Dick reflected, that the young lady had

fully recovered the wilful personality which had lain dormant for a while. Equally certain it seemed that

Dick was inclined to be rebellious himself. Belding had kept the rangers in off the line, and therefore Dick

had been idle most of the time, and, though he tried hard, he had been unable to stay far from Nell's vicinity.

He believed she cared for him; but he could not catch her alone long enough to verify his tormenting hope.

When alone she was as illusive as a shadow, as quick as a flash, as mysterious as a Yaqui. When he tried to

catch her in the garden or fields, or corner her in the patio, she eluded him, and left behind a memory of

darkblue, haunting eyes. It was that look in her eyes which lent him hope. At other times, when it might

have been possible for Dick to speak, Nell clung closely to Mercedes. He had long before enlisted the loyal

Mercedes in his cause; but in spite of this Nell had been more than a match for them both.

Gale pondered over an idea he had long revolved in mind, and which now suddenly gave place to a decision

that made his heart swell and his cheek burn. He peeped again through the green branches to see Nell

"Qui'en sabe," he called, mockingly, and was delighted with Nell's quick, amazed start.

Then he went in search of Mrs. Belding, and found her busy in the kitchen. The relation between Gale and

Mrs. Belding had subtly and incomprehensively changed. He understood her less than when at first he

divined an antagonism in her. If such a thing were possible she had retained the antagonism while seeming to

yield to some influence that must have been fondness for him. Gale was in no wise sure of her affection, and

he had long imagined she was afraid of him, or of something that he represented. He had gone on, openly and

fairly, though discreetly, with his rather onesided love affair; and as time passed he had grown less

conscious of what had seemed her unspoken opposition. Gale had come to care greatly for Nell's mother. Not

only was she the comfort and strength of her home, but also of the inhabitants of Forlorn River. Indian,

Mexican, American were all the same to her in trouble or illness; and then she was nurse, doctor,

peacemaker, helper. She was good and noble, and there was not a child or grownup in Forlorn River who did

not love and bless her. But Mrs. Belding did not seem happy. She was brooding, intense, deep, strong, eager

for the happiness and welfare of others; and she was dominated by a worship of her daughter that was as

strange as it was pathetic. Mrs. Belding seldom smiled, and never laughed. There was always a soft, sad, hurt

look in her eyes. Gale often wondered if there had been other tragedy in her life than the supposed loss of her

father in the desert. Perhaps it was the very unsolved nature of that loss which made it haunting.

Mrs. Belding heard Dick's step as he entered the kitchen, and, looking up, greeted him.

"Mother," began Dick, earnestly. Belding called her that, and so did Ladd and Lash, but it was the first time

The only indication Mrs. Belding gave of being started was in her eyes, which darkened, shadowed with

"I love Nell," went on Dick, simply, "and I want you to let me ask her to be my wife."

Mrs. Belding's face blanched to a deathly white. Gale, thinking with surprise and concern that she was going

"I've known for a long time," replied Mrs. Belding. Her voice was steady, and there was no evidence of

Dick laughed. "I've been trying to get a chance to tell her. I haven't had it yet. But she knows. There are other

ways besides speech. And Mercedes has told her. I hope, I almost believe Nell cares a little for me."

"I've known that, too, for a long time," said Mrs. Belding, low almost as a whisper.

"Dick, you must be very blind not to see what has been plain to all of us....I guessit couldn't have been

She drew him to the light and looked with strange, piercing intentness into his face. Gale had never dreamed

a woman's eyes could hold such a world of thought and feeling. It seemed all the sweetness of life was there,

"Why!...Just as soon as she will do it. Tomorrow!" Dick gave a wild, exultant little laugh.

"Dick Gale, you want my Nell? You love her just as she isher sweetnessher goodness? Just herself,

"Dear Mrs. Belding, I love Nell for herself. If she loves me I'll be the happiest of men. There's absolutely

"But your people? Oh, Dick, you come of a proud family. I can tell. II once knew a young man like you. A

few months can't change prideblood. Years can't change them. You've become a ranger. You love the

adventurethe wild life. That won't last. Perhaps you'll settle down to ranching. I know you love the West.

"If you want to know anything about my family, I'll tell you," interrupted Dick, with strong feeling. "I've not

secrets about them or myself. My future and happiness are Nell's to make. No one else shall count with me."

Mrs. Belding's strained face underwent a swift and mobile relaxation, and suddenly she was weeping in

"Why, mother!" Gale could say no more. He did not comprehend a mood seemingly so utterly at variance

with Mrs. Belding's habitual temperament. But he put his arm around her. In another moment she had gained

Gale went thoughtfully back to his room. He vowed that he would answer for Nell's happiness, if he had the

wonderful good fortune to win her. Then remembering the hope Mrs. Belding had given him, Dick lost his

gravity in a flash, and something began to dance and ring within him. He simply could not keep his steps

turned from the patio. Every path led there. His blood was throbbing, his hopes mounting, his spirit soaring.

Plainly he meant his merry whistle and his buoyant step to interrupt this first languorous stage of the siesta

which the girls always took during the hot hours. Nell had acquired the habit long before Mercedes came to

show how fixed a thing it was in the life of the tropics. But neither girl heard him. Mercedes lay under the

palo verde, her beautiful head dark and still upon a cushion. Nell was asleep in the hammock. There was an

abandonment in her deep repose, and a faint smile upon her face. Her sweet, red lips, with the soft, perfect

curve, had always fascinated Dick, and now drew him irresistibly. He had always been consumed with a

desire to kiss her, and now he was overwhelmed with his opportunity. It would be a terrible thing to do, but if

she did not awaken at once No, he would fight the temptation. That would be more than spunk. It would

Suddenly an ugly green fly sailed low over Nell, appeared about to alight on her. Noiselessly Dick stepped

close to the hammock bent under the tree, and with a sweep of his hand chased the intruding fly away. But he

found himself powerless to straighten up. He was close to herbending over her facenear the sweet lips.

The insolent, dreaming smile just parted them. Then he thought he was lost. But she stirredhe feared she

He had stepped back erect when she opened her eyes. They were sleepy, yet surprised until she saw him.

It was evident that she did not know whether or not to believe him, and as she studied him a slow blush dyed

"I thoughtI wasdreaming," she said, and evidently the sound of her voice reassured her.

"Yes, you looked as if you were having pleasant dreams," replied Dick. "So sorry to wake you. I can't see

how I came to do it, I was so quiet. Mercedes didn't wake. Well, I'll go and let you have your siesta and

"Only ninety in the shade. And you've told me the mercury goes to one hundred and thirty in midsummer.

Nell's sleepy blue eyes opened a little wider. She did not know what to make of this changed young man.

Dick turned away then and left the patio by the opening into the yard. Nell was really sleepy, and when she

had fallen asleep again he would return. He walked around for a while. Belding and the rangers were shoeing

a broncho. Yaqui was in the field with the horses. Blanco Sol grazed contently, and now and then lifted his

head to watch. His long ears went up at sight of his master, and he whistled. Presently Dick, as if

Nell was now deep in her siesta. She was inert, relaxed, untroubled by dreams. Her hair was damp on her

Again Nell stirred, and gradually awakened. Her eyes unclosed, humid, shadowy, unconscious. They rested

upon Dick for a moment before they became clear and comprehensive. He stood back fully ten feet from her,

"I've interrupted your siesta again," he said. "Please forgive me. I'll take myself off."

He wandered away, and when it became impossible for him to stay away any longer he returned to the patio.

The instant his glance rested upon Nell's face he divined she was feigning sleep. The faint roseblush had

paled. The warm, rich, golden tint of her skin had fled. Dick dropped upon his knees and bent over her.

Though his blood was churning in his veins, his breast laboring, his mind whirling with the wonder of that

moment and its promise, he made himself deliberate. He wanted more than anything he had ever wanted in

his life to see if she would keep up that pretense of sleep and let him kiss her. She must have felt his breath,

for her hair waved off her brow. Her cheeks were now white. Her breast swelled and sank. He bent down

closercloser. But he must have been maddeningly slow, for as he bent still closer Nell's eyes opened, and

he caught a swift purple gaze of eyes as she whirled her head. Then, with a little cry, she rose and fled.

NO word from George Thorne had come to Forlorn River in weeks. Gale grew concerned over the fact, and

began to wonder if anything serious could have happened to him. Mercedes showed a slow, wearing strain.

Thorne's commission expired the end of January, and if he could not get his discharge immediately, he surely

could obtain leave of absence. Therefore, Gale waited, not without growing anxiety, and did his best to cheer

Mercedes. The first of February came bringing news of rebel activities and bandit operations in and around

Mercedes became silent, mournful. Her eyes were great black windows of tragedy. Nell devoted herself

entirely to the unfortunate girl; Dick exerted himself to persuade her that all would yet come well; in fact, the

whole household could not have been kinder to a sister or a daughter. But their united efforts were

unavailing. Mercedes seemed to accept with fatalistic hopelessness a last and crowning misfortune.

A dozen times Gale declared he would ride in to Casita and find out why they did not hear from Thorne;

however, older and wiser heads prevailed over his impetuosity. Belding was not sanguine over the safety of

the Casita trail. Refugees from there arrived every day in Forlorn River, and if tales they told were true, real

war would have been preferable to what was going on along the border. Belding and the rangers and the

Yaqui held a consultation. Not only had the Indian become a faithful servant to Gale, but he was also of value

to Belding. Yaqui had all the craft of his class, and superior intelligence. His knowledge of Mexicans was

second only to his hate of them. And Yaqui, who had been scouting on all the trails, gave information that

made Belding decide to wait some days before sending any one to Casita. He required promises from his

It was upon Gale's coming from this conference that he encountered Nell. Since the interrupted siesta episode

she had been more than ordinarily elusive, and about all he had received from her was a tantalizing smile

from a distance. He got the impression now, however, that she had awaited him. When he drew close to her

"Dick," she began, hurriedly. "Dad's not going to send any one to see about Thorne?"

"No, not yet. He thinks it best not to. We all think so. I'm sorry. Poor Mercedes!"

"I knew it. I tried to coax him to send Laddy or even Yaqui. He wouldn't listen to me. Dick, Mercedes is

dying by inches. Can't you see what ails her? It's more than love or fear. It's uncertaintysuspense. Oh, can't

"Nell, I feel as badly as you about her. I wanted to ride in to Casita. Belding shut me up quick, the last time."

Nell came close to Gale, clasped his arm. There was no color in her face. Her eyes held a dark, eager

"Dick, will you slip off without Dad's consent? Risk it! Go to Casita and find out what's happened to

"Will you gofor my sake?" Like lightning her mood changed and she was close to him again, hands on his,

"Dick, it'll not be so bad as that. Butwhat if it is?...Go, Dick, if not for poor Mercedes's sake, then for

mineto please me. I'llI'll...you won't lose anything by going. I think I know how Mercedes feels. Just a

word from Thorne or about him would save her. Take Blanco Sol and go, Dick. What rebel outfit could ever

ride you down on that horse? Why, Dick, if I was up on Sol I wouldn't be afraid of the whole rebel army."

"My dear girl, it's not a question of being afraid. It's my wordmy duty to Belding."

"Dick, listen!...If you goif you fetch some word of Thorne to comfort Mercedes, youwell, you will have

"Nono!" cried Gale, in violence, struggling with himself. "Nell Burton, I'll tell you this. To have the reward

I want would mean pretty near heaven for me. But not even for that will I break my word to your father."

"Gracias, senor," she replied, mockingly. "Adios." Then she flashed out of his sight.

Gale went to his room at once, disturbed and thrilling, and did not soon recover from that encounter.

The following morning at the breakfast table Nell was not present. Mrs. Belding evidently considered the fact

somewhat unusual, for she called out into the patio and then into the yard. Then she went to Mercedes's room.

"She's in one of her tantrums lately," said Belding. "Wouldn't speak to me this morning. Let her alone,

mother. She's spoiled enough, without running after her. She's always hungry. She'll be on hand presently,

Notwithstanding Belding's conviction, which Gale shared, Nell did not appear at all during the hour. When

Belding and the rangers went outside, Yaqui was eating his meal on the bench where he always sat.

"YaquiLluvia d' oro, si?" asked Belding, waving his hand toward the corrals. The Indian's beautiful name

for Nell meant "shower of gold," and Belding used it in asking Yaqui if he had seen her. He received a

Perhaps half an hour afterward, as Gale was leaving his room, he saw the Yaqui running up the path from the

fields. It was markedly out of the ordinary to see the Indian run. Gale wondered what was the matter. Yaqui

ran straight to Belding, who was at work at his bench under the wagon shed. In less than a moment Belding

was bellowing for his rangers. Gale got to him first, but Ladd and Lash were not far behind.

"Send Yaqui to find the hoss's trail, an' let's figger," said Ladd. "Shore this 's no raider job."

In the swift search that ensued Gale did not have anything to say; but his mind was forming a conclusion.

When he found his old saddle and bridle missing from the peg in the barn his conclusion became a positive

"Hey, Dick, don't take it so much to heart," said Belding. "We'll likely find Sol, and if we don't, there's other

"Nell has started for Casita," burst out Gale. "She has gone to fetch Mercedes some word about Thorne. Oh,

Belding, you needn't shake your head. I know she's gone. She tried to persuade me to go, and was furious

"I don't believe it," replied Belding, hoarsely. "Nell may have her temper. She's a little devil at times, but she

"I reckon Sol's white head is pointed level an' straight down the Casita trail. An' Nell can ride. We're losing'

"I say you're all wrong," he yelled, starting for the corrals. "She's only taking a little ride, same as she's done

often. But rustle now. Find out. Dick, you ride cross the valley. Jim, you hunt up and down the river. I'll head

up San Felipe way. And you, Laddy, take Diablo and hit the Casita trail. If she really has gone after Thorne

"Shore I'll go," replied Ladd. "but, Beldin', if you're not plumb crazy you're close to it. That big white devil

can't catch Sol. Not in an hour or a day or a week! What's more, at the end of any runnin' time, with an even

"Laddy, you mean to say Sol is a faster horse than Diablo?" thundered Belding, his face purple.

"We're wastin' time," curtly interrupted Ladd. "You can gamble on this if you want to. I'll ride your Blanco

Devil as he never was rid before, 'cept once when a damn sight better hossman than I am couldn't make him

Without more words the men saddled and were off, not waiting for the Yaqui to come in with possible

information as to what trail Blanco Sol had taken. It certainly did not show in the clear sand of the level

valley where Gale rode to and fro. When Gale returned to the house he found Belding and Lash awaiting him.

They did not mention their own search, but stated that Yaqui had found Blanco Sol's tracks in the Casita trail.

The interminable time that followed contained for Gale about as much suspense as he could well bear. What

astonished him and helped him greatly to fight off actual distress was the endurance of Nell's mother.

Early on the morning of the second day, Gale, who had acquired an unbreakable habit of watching, saw three

white horses and a bay come wearily stepping down the road. He heard Blanco Sol's familiar whistle, and he

leaped up wild with joy. The horse was riderless. Gale's sudden joy received a violent check, then resurged

when he saw a limp white form in Jim Lash's arms. Ladd was supporting a horseman who wore a military

Gale shouted with joy and ran into the house to tell the good news. It was the everthoughtful Mrs. Belding

who prevented him from rushing in to tell Mercedes. Then he hurried out into the yard, closely followed by

It was indeed a repentant Nell, but there was spirit yet in the tired blue eyes. Then she caught sight of Gale

"You needn't worryabout your old horse," she said, as Belding carried her toward the door. "Oh, Dick!

Gale turned to greet his friend. Indeed, it was but a haggard ghost of the cavalryman. Thorne looked ill or

Thorne's answer was a faint smile. He seemed ready to drop from the saddle. Gale helped Ladd hold Thorne

upon the horse until they reached the house. Belding came out again. His welcome was checked as he saw the

condition of the cavalryman. Thorne reeled into Dick's arms. But he was able to stand and walk.

"She'll be well the minute she sees him," averred Belding, as he and Gale led the cavalryman to Mercedes's

room. There they left him; and Gale, at least, felt his ears ringing with the girl's broken cry of joy.

When Belding and Gale hurried forth again the rangers were tending the tired horses. Upon returning to the

house Jim Lash calmly lit his pipe, and Ladd declared that, hungry as he was, he had to tell his story.

"Shore, Beldin'," began Ladd, "that was funny about Diablo catchin' Blanco Sol. Funny ain't the word. I

nearly laughed myself to death. Well, I rode in Sol's tracks all the way to Casita. Never seen a rebel or a

raider till I got to town. Figgered Nell made the trip in five hours. I went straight to the camp of the

cavalrymen, an' found them just coolin' off an' dressin' down their hosses after what looked to me like a big

"Some soldier took me to an officer's tent. Nell was there, some white an' all in. She just said, 'Laddy!'

Thorne was there, too, an' he was bein' worked over by the camp doctor. I didn't ask no questions, because I

seen quiet was needed round that tent. After satisfying myself that Nell was all right, an' Thorne in no danger,

"Shore there was so darn many fellers who wanted to an' tried to tell me what'd come off, I thought I'd never

"Nell rode Blanco Sol atearin' into camp, an' had a crowd round her in a jiffy. She told who she was, where

she'd come from, an' what she wanted. Well, it seemed a day or so before Nell got there the cavalrymen had

heard word of Thorne. You see, Thorne had left camp on leave of absence some time before. He was shore

mysterious, they said, an' told nobody where he was goin'. A week or so after he left camp some Greaser give

it away that Rojas had a prisoner in a dobe shack near his camp. Nobody paid much attention to what the

Greaser said. He wanted money for mescal. An' it was usual for Rojas to have prisoners. But in a few more

"Now it happened when this news came Colonel Weede was in Nogales with his staff, an' the officer left in

charge didn't know how to proceed. Rojas's camp was across the line in Mexico, an' ridin' over there was

serious business. It meant a whole lot more than just scatterin' one Greaser camp. It was what had been

botherin' more'n one colonel along the line. Thorne's feller soldiers was anxious to get him out of a bad fix,

"When Nell found out Thorne was bein' starved an' beat in a dobe shack no more'n two mile across the line,

she shore stirred up that cavalry camp. Shore! She told them soldiers Rojas was holdin' Thornetorturin'

him to make him tell where Mercedes was. She told about Mercedeshow sweet an' beautiful she

washow her father had been murdered by Rojashow she had been hounded by the bandithow ill an'

miserable she was, waitin' for her lover. An' she begged the cavalrymen to rescue Thorne.

"From the way it was told to me I reckon them cavalrymen went up in the air. Fine, fiery lot of young bloods,

I thought, achin' for a scrap. But the officer in charge, bein' in a ticklish place, still held out for higher orders.

"Then Nell broke loose. Youall know Nell's tongue is sometimes like a choya thorn. I'd have give somethin'

to see her work up that soldier outfit. Nell's never so pretty as when she's mad. An' this last stunt of hers was

no girly tantrum, as Beldin' calls it. She musta been ragin' with all the hell there's in a woman....Can't you

Ladd mopped his sweaty face with his dusty scarf. He was beaming. He was growing excited, hurried in his

"Right out then Nell swore she'd go after Thorne. If them cavalrymen couldn't ride with a Western girl to

save a brother Americanlet them hang back! One feller, under orders, tried to stop Blanco Sol. An' that

feller invited himself to the hospital. Then the cavalrymen went flyin' for their hosses. Mebbe Nell's move

was just foxywoman's cunnin'. But I'm thinkin' as she felt then she'd have sent Blanco Sol straight into

"It didn't take long for every cavalryman in that camp to get wind of what was comin' off. Shore they musta

"Say, I wish you fellers could see the lane that bunch of hosses left in the greasewood an' cactus. Looks like

there'd been a cattle stampede on the desert....Blanco Sol stayed out in front, you can gamble on that. Right

into Rojas's camp! Sabe, you senors? Gawd Almighty! I never had grief that 'd hold a candle to this one of

"Rojas an' his men vamoosed without a shot. That ain't surprisin'. There wasn't a shot fired by anybody. The

cavalrymen soon found Thorne an' hurried with him back on Uncle Sam's land. Thorne was half naked, black

an' blue all over, thin as a rail. He looked mighty sick when I seen him first. That was a little after midday. He

was given food an' drink. Shore he seemed a starved man. But he picked up wonderful, an' by the time Jim

came along he was wantin' to start for Forlorn River. So was Nell. By main strength as much as persuasion

"Well, we made as sneaky a start in the dark as Jim an' me could manage, an' never hit the trail till we was

miles from town. Thorne's nerve held him up for a while. Then all at once he tumbled out of his saddle. We

As Ladd paused in his story Belding began to stutter, and finally he exploded. His mighty utterances were

incoherent. But plainly the wrath he had felt toward the wilful girl was forgotten. Gale remained gripped by

"I reckon you'll all be some surprised when you see Casita," went on Ladd. "It's half burned an' half tore

down. An' the rebels are livin' fat. There was rumors of another federal force on the road from Case Grandes.

I seen a good many Americans from interior Mexico, an' the stories they told would make your hair stand up.

They all packed guns, was fightin' mad at Greasers, an' sore on the good old U. S. But shore glad to get over

the line! Some were waitin' for trains, which don't run reg'lar no more, an' others were ready to hit the trails

"Laddy, what knocks me is Rojas holding Thorne prisoner, trying to make him tell where Mercedes had been

"The bandit's crazy over her. That's the Spanish of it," replied Belding, his voice rolling. "Rojas is a peon.

He's been a slave to the proud Castilian. He loves Mercedes as he hates her. When I was down in Durango I

saw something of these peons' insane passions. Rojas wants this girl only to have her, then kill her. It's damn

"Shore I'm not sayin' what I think," added Ladd. But the look of him was not indicative of a tranquil

Thorne was put to bed in Gale's room. He was very weak, yet he would keep Mercedes's hand and gaze at her

with unbelieving eyes. Mercedes's failing hold on hope and strength seemed to have been a fantasy; she was

again vivid, magnetic, beautiful, shot through and through with intense and throbbing life. She induced him

to take food and drink. Then, fighting sleep with what little strength he had left, at last he succumbed.

For all Dick could ascertain his friend never stirred an eyelash nor a finger for twentyseven hours. When he

"Hello, Dick; I didn't dream it then," he said. "There you are, and my darling with the proud, dark

"Say, what's happened to you? It can't be those clothes and a little bronze on your face....Dick, you're

olderyou've changed. You're not so thickly built. By Gad, if you don't look fine!"

"Thanks. I'm sorry I can't return the compliment. You're about the seediest, hungriestlooking fellow I ever

"Dick, don't make medon't let me think of that fiend Rojas!....I'm here now. I'll be well in a day or two.

Mercedes came in, radiant and softvoiced. She fell upon her knees beside Thorne's bed, and neither of them

appeared to see Nell enter with a tray. Then Gale and Nell made a good deal of unnecessary bustle in moving

a small table close to the bed. Mercedes had forgotten for the moment that her lover had been a starving man.

If Thorne remembered it he did not care. They held hands and looked at each other without speaking.

"Hush. It's beautiful," replied Nell, softly; and she tried to coax Dick from the room.

Dick, however, thought he ought to remain at least long enough to tell Thorne that a man in his condition

Mercedes sprang up blushing with pretty, penitent manner and moving white hands eloquent of her condition.

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Thorne. "How I love her. Dick, isn't she the most beautiful, the loveliest, the

"George, I share your enthusiasm," said Dick, dryly, "but Mercedes isn't the only girl on earth."

Manifestly this was a startling piece of information, and struck Thorne in more than one way.

"George," went on Dick, "did you happen to observe the girl who saved your lifewho incidentally just

"Nell Burton! Why, of course. She's brave, a wonderful girl, and really nicelooking."

"You long, lean, hungry beggar! That was the young lady who might answer the raving eulogy you just got

Thorne uttered some kind of a sound that his weakened condition would not allow to be a whoop.

"I'm glad, Dick, with all my heart. I wondered at the changed look you wear. Why, boy, you've got a different

front....Call the lady in, and you bet I'll look her over right. I can see better now."

Thorne fell to upon his breakfast and made it vanish with magic speed. Meanwhile Dick told him something

"You needn't waste your breath," said Thorne. "I guess I can see. Belding and those rangers have made you

the real thingthe real Western goods....What I want to know is all about the girl."

"That's not possible. I'll have to talk to Laddy....But she must be a wonder, or Dick Gale would never have

fallen for her....Isn't it great, Dick? I'm here! Mercedes is wellsafe! You've got a girl! Oh!....But say, I

haven't a dollar to my name. I had a lot of money, Dick, and those robbers stole it, my watcheverything.

Damn that little black Greaser! He got Mercedes's letters. I wish you could have seen him trying to read

them. He's simply nutty over her, Dick. I could have borne the loss of money and valuablesbut those

"Cheer up. You have the girl. Belding will make you a proposition presently. The future smiles, old friend. If

"Dick, you're going to be my savior twice over....Well, now, listen to me." His gay excitement changed to

"Yes. But are you wise in letting any Mexican, even a priest, know Mercedes is hidden in Forlorn River?"

"I'll marry her first, then I'll face my problem. Fetch the padre, Dick. And ask our kind friends to be witnesses

Much to Gale's surprise neither Belding nor Ladd objected to the idea of bringing a padre into the household,

and thereby making known to at least one Mexican the whereabouts of Mercedes Castaneda. Belding's

caution was wearing out in wrath at the persistent unsettled condition of the border, and Ladd grew only the

Gale fetched the padre, a little, weazened, timid man who was old and without interest or penetration.

Apparently he married Mercedes and Thorne as he told his beads or mumbled a prayer. It was Mrs. Belding

who kept the occasion from being a merry one, and she insisted on not exciting Thorne. Gale marked her

"Mother, what's the use of making a funeral out of a marriage?" protested Belding. "A chance for some fun

doesn't often come to Forlorn River. You're a fine doctor. Can't you see the girl is what Thorne needed? He'll

"George, when you're all right again we'll add something to present congratulations," said Gale.

Belding enjoyed a laugh at his good wife's expense, for Thorne could not be kept in bed, and all in a day, it

seemed, he grew so well and so hungry that his friends were delighted, and Mercedes was radiant. In a few

days his weakness disappeared and he was going the round of the fields and looking over the ground marked

out in Gale's plan of water development. Thorne was highly enthusiastic, and at once staked out his claim for

one hundred and sixty acres of land adjoining that of Belding and the rangers. These five tracts took in all the

ground necessary for their operations, but in case of the success of the irrigation project the idea was to

increase their squatter holdings by purchase of more land down the valley. A hundred families had lately

moved to Forlorn River; more were coming all the time; and Belding vowed he could see a vision of the

Meanwhile everybody in Belding's household, except the quiet Ladd and the watchful Yaqui, in the absence

of disturbance of any kind along the border, grew freer and more unrestrained, as if anxiety was slowly

fading in the peace of the present. Jim Lash made a trip to the Sonoyta Oasis, and Ladd patrolled fifty miles

of the line eastward without incident or sight of raiders. Evidently all the border hawks were in at the picking

The February nights were cold, with a dry, icy, penetrating coldness that made a warm fire most comfortable.

Belding's household usually congregated in the sittingroom, where burning mesquite logs crackled in the

open fireplace. Belding's one passion besides horses was the game of checkers, and he was always wanting to

play. On this night he sat playing with Ladd, who never won a game and never could give up trying. Mrs.

Belding worked with her needle, stopping from time to time to gaze with thoughtful eyes into the fire. Jim

Lash smoked his pipe by the hearth and played with the cat on his knee. Thorne and Mercedes were at the

table with pencil and paper; and he was trying his best to keep his attention from his wife's beautiful,

animated face long enough to read and write a little Spanish. Gale and Nell sat in a corner watching the bright

There came a low knock on the door. It may have been an ordinary knock, for it did not disturb the women;

"Who's that?" asked Belding, as he slowly pushed back his chair and looked at Ladd.

The door opened, and the short, square, powerfully built Indian entered. He had a magnificent head, strangely

staring, somber black eyes, and very darkly bronzed face. He carried a rifle and strode with impressive

Gale jumped up, stifling an exclamation, and he went outdoors with Yaqui. He felt his arm gripped, and

allowed himself to be led away without asking a question. Yaqui's presence was always one of gloom, and

now his stern action boded catastrophe. Once clear of trees he pointed to the level desert across the river,

Then he cautioned Yaqui to keep sharp lookout, and, hurriedly returning to the house, he called the men out

"I knew it was too good to last....Dick, you and Jim stay here while Laddy and I look around."

Dick returned to the sittingroom. The women were nervous and not to be deceived. So Dick merely said

Yaqui had sighted some lights off in the desert, and they probably were campfires. Belding did not soon

return, and when he did he was alone, and, saying he wanted to consult with the men, he sent Mrs. Belding

"Laddy's gone over to scout around and try to find out who the outfit belongs to and how many are in it," said

"I reckon if they're raiders with bad intentions we wouldn't see no fires," remarked Jim, calmly.

"It 'd be useless, I suppose, to send for the cavalry," said Gale. "Whatever's coming off would be over before

"Hell, fellows! I don't look for an attack on Forlorn River," burst out Belding. "I can't believe that possible.

These rebelraiders have a little sense. They wouldn't spoil their game by pulling U. S. soldiers across the

line from Yuma to El Paso. But, as Jim says, if they wanted to steal a few horses or cattle they wouldn't build

"I thought of that at once. If true, it'll be terrible for Mercedes and me. But Rojas will never get his hands on

my wife. If I can't kill him, I'll kill her!...Belding, this is tough on youthis risk we put upon your family. I

"Cut that kind of talk," replied Belding, bluntly. "Well, if it is Rojas he's acting damn strange for a raider.

That's what worries me. We can't do anything but wait. With Laddy and Yaqui out there we won't be

surprised. Let's take the best possible view of the situation until we know more. That'll not likely be before

The women of the house might have gotten some sleep that night, but it was certain the men did not get any.

Morning broke cold and gray, the 19th of February. Breakfast was prepared earlier than usual, and an air of

suppressed waiting excitement pervaded the place. Otherwise the ordinary details of the morning's work

continued as on any other day. Ladd came in hungry and cold, and said the Mexicans were not breaking

camp. He reported a goodsized force of rebels, and was taciturn as to his idea of forthcoming events.

About an hour after sunrise Yaqui ran in with the information that part of the rebels were crossing the river.

"That can't mean a fight yet," declared Belding. "But get in the house, boys, and make ready anyway. I'll meet

"Drive them off the place same as if you had a company of soldiers backin' you," said Ladd. "Don't give them

an inch. We're in bad, and the bigger bluff we put up the more likely our chance."

"Belding, you're an officer of the United States. Mexicans are much impressed by show of authority. I've seen

"Oh, I know the whitelivered Greasers better than any of you, don't mistake me," replied Belding. He was

The rangers, with Yaqui and Thorne, stationed themselves at the several windows of the sittingroom. Rifles

and smaller arms and boxes of shells littered the tables and window seats. No small force of besiegers could

"Reckon there's about a dozen in the bunch," observed the calm Lash. "Some hosses they're ridin'. Where 'n

"Shore, Jim, they work hard an' buy 'em with real silver pesos," replied Ladd, sarcastically.

The horsemen halted at the corrals. They were orderly and showed no evidence of hostility. They were,

however, fully armed. Belding stalked out to meet them. Apparently a leader wanted to parley with him, but

Belding would hear nothing. He shook his head, waved his arms, stamped to and fro, and his loud, angry

voice could be heard clear back at the house. Whereupon the detachment of rebels retired to the bank of the

river, beyond the white post that marked the boundary line, and there they once more drew rein. Belding

remained by the corrals watching them, evidently still in threatening mood. Presently a single rider left the

troop and trotted his horse back down the road. When he reached the corrals he was seen to halt and pass

Belding looked at whatever it was he held in his hand, shook his burley head, and started swiftly for the

"Beldin', shore we'd better read it," replied Ladd. "What we want is a line on them Greasers. Whether they're

Campo's men or Salazar's, or just a wanderin' bunch of rebelsor Rojas's bandits. Sabe, senor?"

Thorne opened a door and called her. She came into the room followed by Nell and Mrs. Belding. Evidently

"My dear, we want you to read what's written on this paper," said Thorne, as he led her to the table. "It was

Mercedes gave the writing one swift glance, then fainted in Thorne's arms. He carried her to a couch, and

Belding looked at his rangers. It was characteristic of the man that, now when catastrophe appeared

"Let's stave the Greaser off till dark. Then Laddy an' me an' Thorne will take Mercedes an' hit the trail for

"Camino del Diablo! That awful trail with a woman! Jim, do you forget how many hundreds of men have

"I reckon I ain't forgettin' nothin'," replied Jim. "The waterholes are full now. There's grass, an' we can do the

"Beldin', Jim's idea hits me pretty reasonable," interposed Ladd. "Lord knows that's about the only chance

"But suppose we do stave Rojas off, and you get safely away with Mercedes. Isn't Rojas going to find it out

"I reckon he'd find out by daylight," replied Jim. "But, Tom, he ain't agoin' to start a scrap then. He'd want

time an' hosses an' men to chase us out on the trail. You see, I'm figgerin' on the crazy Greaser wantin' the

girl. I reckon he'll try to clean up here to get her. But he's too smart to fight you for nothin'. Rojas may be

nutty about women, but he's afraid of the U. S. Take my word for it he'd discover the trail in the mornin' an'

Belding paced up and down the room. Jim and Ladd whispered together. Gale walked to the window and

looked out at the distant group of bandits, and then turned his gaze to rest upon Mercedes. She was conscious

now, and her eyes seemed all the larger and blacker for the whiteness of her face. Thorne held her hands, and

No one but Gale saw the Yaqui in the background looking down upon the Spanish girl. All of Yaqui's looks

were strange; but this singularly so. Gale marked it, and felt he would never forget. Mercedes's beauty had

never before struck him as being so exquisite, so alluring as now when she lay stricken. Gale wondered if the

Indian was affected by her loveliness, her helplessness, or her terror. Yaqui had seen Mercedes only a few

times, and upon each of these he had appeared to be fascinated. Could the strange Indian, because his hate for

Mexicans was so great, be gloating over her misery? Something about Yaquia noble austerity of

"Listen to this," he said, earnestly. "I'll go out and have a talk with Rojas. I'll try to reason with him; tell him

to think a long time before he sheds blood on Uncle Sam's soil. That he's now after an American's wife! I'll

not commit myself, nor will I refuse outright to consider his demands, nor will I show the least fear of him.

I'll play for time. If my bluff goes through...well and good....After dark the four of you, Laddy, Jim, Dick, and

Thorne, will take Mercedes and my best white horses, and, with Yaqui as guide, circle round through Altar

Valley to the trail, and head for Yuma....Wait now, Laddy. Let me finish. I want you to take the white horses

for two reasonsto save them and to save you. Savvy? If Rojas should follow on my horses he'd be likely to

catch you. Also, you can pack a great deal more than on the bronchs. Also, the big horses can travel faster

and farther on little grass and water. I want you to take the Indian, because in a case of this kind he'll be a

godsend. If you get headed or lost or have to circle off the trail, think what it 'd mean to have Yaqui with you.

He knows Sonora as no Greaser knows it. He could hide you, find water and grass, when you would

absolutely believe it impossible. The Indian is loyal. He has his debt to pay, and he'll pay it, don't mistake me.

When you're gone I'll hide Nell so Rojas won't see her if he searches the place. Then I think I could sit down

The rangers approved of Belding's plan, and Thorne choked in his effort to express his gratitude.

"All right, we'll chance it," concluded Belding. "I'll go out now and call Rojas and his outfit over...Say, it

The girl sat up, her eyes dilating, and with her hands clasping Thorne's. She said:

"Rojas sworeby his saints and his virginthat if I wasn't givento himin twentyfour hourshe

would set fire to the villagekill the mencarry off the womenhang the children on cactus thorns!"

"By his saints an' his virgin!" echoed Ladd. He laugheda cold, cutting, deadly laughsignificant and

Then the Yaqui uttered a singular cry. Gale had heard this once before, and now he remembered it was at the

"Look at the Indian," whispered Belding, hoarsely. "Damn if I don't believe he understood every word

Mercedes said. And, gentlemen, don't mistake me, if he ever gets near Senor Rojas there'll be some gory

Yaqui had moved close to Mercedes, and stood beside her as she leaned against her husband. She seemed

impelled to meet the Indian's gaze, and evidently it was so powerful or hypnotic that it wrought irresistibly

upon her. But she must have seen or divined what was beyond the others, for she offered him her trembling

hand. Yaqui took it and laid it against his body in a strange motion, and bowed his head. Then he stepped

Belding went outdoors while the rangers took up their former position at the west window. Each had his own

somber thoughts, Gale imagined, and knew his own were dark enough. A slow fire crept along his veins. He

saw Belding halt at the corrals and wave his hand. Then the rebels mounted and came briskly up the road, this

Wherever Rojas had kept himself upon the former advance was not clear; but he certainly was prominently in

sight now. He made a gaudy, almost a dashing figure. Gale did not recognize the white sombrero, the crimson

scarf, the velvet jacket, nor any feature of the dandy's costume; but their general effect, the whole ensemble,

recalled vividly to mind his first sight of the bandit. Rojas dismounted and seemed to be listening. He

betrayed none of the excitement Gale had seen in him that night at the Del Sol. Evidently this composure

struck Ladd and Lash as unusual in a Mexican supposed to be laboring under stress of feeling. Belding made

gestures, vehemently bobbed his big head, appeared to talk with his body as much as with his tongue. Then

Rojas was seen to reply, and after that it was clear that the talk became painful and difficult. It ended finally

in what appeared to be mutual understanding. Rojas mounted and rode away with his men, while Belding

As he entered the door his eyes were shining, his big hands were clenched, and he was breathing audibly.

"You can rope me if I'm not locoed!" he burst out. "I went out to conciliate a redhanded little murderer, and

damn me if I didn't meet aawell, I've not suitable name handy. I started my bluff and got along pretty

well, but I forgot to mention that Mercedes was Thorne's wife. And what do you think? Rojas swore he loved

Mercedes swore he'd marry her right here in Forlorn Riverswore he would give up robbing and killing

people, and take her away from Mexico. He has goldjewels. He swore if he didn't get her nothing mattered.

He'd die anyway without her....And here's the strange thing. I believe him! He was cold as ice, and all hell

inside. Never saw a Greaser like him. Well, I pretended to be greatly impressed. We got to talking friendly, I

suppose, though I didn't understand half he said, and I imagine he gathered less what I said. Anyway, without

"I reckon Rojas'll be smart enough to string his outfit across the few trails leadin' out of Forlorn River,"

"That needn't worry us. All we want is dark to come," replied Belding. "Yaqui will slip through. If we thank

any lucky stars let it be for the Indian....Now, boys, put on your thinking caps. You'll take eight horses, the

pick of my bunch. You must pack all that's needed for a possible long trip. Mind, Yaqui may lead you down

into some wild Sonora valley and give Rojas the slip. You may get to Yuma in six days, and maybe in six

weeks. Yet you've got to pack lighta small pack in saddleslarger ones on the two free horses. You may

have a big fight. Laddy, take the .405. Dick will pack his Remington. All of you go gunned heavy. But the

main thing is a pack that 'll be light enough for swift travel, yet one that 'll keep you from starving on the

The rest of that day passed swiftly. Dick had scarcely a word with Nell, and all the time, as he chose and

deliberated and worked over his little pack, there was a dull pain in his heart.

The sun set, twilight fell, then night closed down fortunately a night slightly overcast. Gale saw the white

horses pass his door like silent ghosts. Even Blanco Diablo made no sound, and that fact was indeed a tribute

to the Yaqui. Gale went out to put his saddle on Blanco Sol. The horse rubbed a soft nose against his

shoulder. Then Gale returned to the sittingroom. There was nothing more to do but wait and say goodby.

Mercedes came clad in leather chaps and coat, a slim stripling of a cowboy, her dark eyes flashing. Her

Gale drew Nell off into the shadow of the room. She was trembling, and as she leaned toward him she was

very different from the coy girl who had so long held him aloof. He took her into his arms.

"I might never come back," he went on, steadily. "I love youI've loved you ever since the first moment I

"Dear Dickdedear Dick, my heart is breaking," faltered Nell, as she clung to him.

"It might be breaking for Mercedesfor Laddy and Jim. I want to hear something for myself. Something to

have on long marchesround lonely campfires. Something to keep my spirit alive. Oh, Nell, you can't

imagine that silence out therethat terrible world of sand and stone!...Do you love me?"

"Yes, yes. Oh, I love you so! I never knew it till now. I love you so. Dick, I'll be safe and I'll waitand hope

"I'm a selfish little coward," cried Nell. "It's so splendid of you all. I ought to glory in it, but I can't. ...Fight if

you must, Dick. Fight for that lovely persecuted girl. I'll love youthe more....Oh! Goodby! Goodby!"

"Yaqui says the early hour's best. Trust him, Laddy. Remember what I sayYaqui's a godsend."

Then they were all outside in the pale gloom under the trees. Yaqui mounted Blanco Diablo; Mercedes was

lifted upon White Woman; Thorne climbed astride Queen; Jim Lash was already upon his horse, which was

as white as the others but bore no name; Ladd mounted the stallion Blanco Torres, and gathered up the long

As he toed the stirrup, hand on mane and pommel, Gale took one more look in at the door. Nell stood in the

gleam of light, her hair shining, face like ashes, her eyes dark, her lips parted, her arms outstretched. That

sweet and tragic picture etched its cruel outlines into Gale's heart. He waved his hand and then fiercely leaped

Before Gale stretched a line of moving horses, white against dark shadows. He could not see the head of that

column; he scarcely heard a soft hoofbeat. A single star shone out of a rift in thin clouds. There was no wind.

The air was cold. The dark space of desert seemed to yawn. To the left across the river flickered a few

campfires. The chill night, silent and mystical, seemed to close in upon Gale; and he faced the wide,

quivering, black level with keen eyes and grim intent, and an awakening of that wild rapture which came like

BLANCO SOL showed no inclination to bend his head to the alfalfa which swished softly about his legs.

Gale felt the horse's sensitive, almost human alertness. Sol knew as well as his master the nature of that flight.

At the far corner of the field Yaqui halted, and slowly the line of white horses merged into a compact mass.

There was a trail here leading down to the river. The campfires were so close that the bright blazes could be

seen in movement, and dark forms crossed in front of them. Yaqui slipped out of his saddle. He ran his hand

over Diablo's nose and spoke low, and repeated this action for each of the other horses. Gale had long ceased

to question the strange Indian's behavior. There was no explaining or understanding many of his manoeuvers.

But the results of them were always thoughtprovoking. Gale had never seen horse stand so silently as in this

instance; no stampno champ of bitno toss of headno shake of saddle or packno heave or snort! It

Yaqui moved away into the shadows as noiselessly as if he were one of them. The darkness swallowed him.

He had taken a parallel with the trail. Gale wondered if Yaqui meant to try to lead his string of horses by the

rebel sentinels. Ladd had his head bent low, his ear toward the trail. Jim's long neck had the arch of a

listening deer. Gale listened, too, and as the slow, silent moments went by his faculty of hearing grew more

acute from strain. He heard Blanco Sol breathe; he heard the pound of his own heart; he heard the silken

rustle of the alfalfa; he heard a faint, faroff sound of voice, like a lost echo. Then his ear seemed to register a

movement of air, a disturbance so soft as to be nameless. Then followed long, silent moments.

Yaqui appeared as he had vanished. He might have been part of the shadows. But he was there. He started off

down the trail leading Diablo. Again the white line stretched slowly out. Gale fell in behind. A bench of

ground, covered with sparse greasewood, sloped gently down to the deep, wide arroyo of Forlorn River.

Blanco Sol shied a few feet out of the trail. Peering low with keen eyes, Gale made out three objectsa

white sombrero, a blanket, and a Mexican lying face down. The Yaqui had stolen upon this sentinel like a

silent wind of death. Just then a desert coyote wailed, and the wild cry fitted the darkness and the Yaqui's

Once under the dark lee of the river bank Yaqui caused another halt, and he disappeared as before. It seemed

to Gale that the Indian started to cross the pale level sandbed of the river, where stones stood out gray, and

the darker line of opposite shore was visible. But he vanished, and it was impossible to tell whether he went

one way or another. Moments passed. The horses held heads up, looked toward the glimmering campfires and

listened. Gale thrilled with the meaning of it allthe nightthe silence the flightand the wonderful

Indian stealing with the slow inevitableness of doom upon another sentinel. An hour passed and Gale seemed

to have become deadened to all sense of hearing. There were no more sounds in the world. The desert was as

silent as it was black. Yet again came that strange change in the tensity of Gale's earstrain, a check, a break,

a vibrationand this time the sound did not go nameless. It might have been moan of wind or wail of

fardistant wolf, but Gale imagined it was the strangling deathcry of another guard, or that strange,

involuntary utterance of the Yaqui. Blanco Sol trembled in all his great frame, and then Gale was certain the

That certainty, once for all, fixed in Gale's mind the mood of his flight. The Yaqui dominated the horses and

the rangers. Thorne and Mercedes were as persons under a spell. The Indian's strange silence, the feeling of

mystery and power he seemed to create, all that was incomprehensible about him were emphasized in the

light of his slow, sure, and ruthless action. If he dominated the others, surely he did more for Galecolored

his thoughtspresage the wild and terrible future of that flight. If Rojas embodied all the hatred and passion

of the peonscourged slave for a thousand yearsthen Yaqui embodied all the darkness, the cruelty, the

Suddenly the Indian stalked out of the gloom. He mounted Diablo and headed across the river. Once more the

line of moving white shadows stretched out. The soft sand gave forth no sound at all. The glimmering

campfires sank behind the western bank. Yaqui led the way into the willows, and there was faint swishing of

leaves; then into the mesquite, and there was faint rustling of branches. The glimmering lights appeared

again, and grotesque forms of saguaros loomed darkly. Gale peered sharply along the trail, and, presently, on

the pale sand under a cactus, there lay a blanketed form, prone, outstretched, a carbine clutched in one hand, a

The cavalcade of white horses passed within five hundred yards of campfires, around which dark forms

moved in plain sight. Soft pads in sand, faint metallic tickings of steel on thorns, low, regular breathing of

horsesthese were all the sounds the fugitives made, and they could not have been heard at onefifth the

distance. The lights disappeared from time to time, grew dimmer, more flickering, and at last they vanished

altogether. Belding's fleet and tireless steeds were out in front; the desert opened ahead wide, dark, vast.

Rojas and his rebels were behind, eating, drinking, careless. The somber shadow lifted from Gale's heart. He

held now an unquenchable faith in the Yaqui. Belding would be listening back there along the river. He

would know of the escape. He would tell Nell, and then hide her safely. As Gale accepted a strange and

fatalistic foreshadowing of toil, blood, and agony in this desert journey, so he believed in Mercedes's ultimate

freedom and happiness, and his own return to the girl who had grown dearer than life.

A cold, gray dawn was fleeing before a rosy sun when Yaqui halted the march at Papago Well. The horses

were taken to water, then led down the arroyo into the grass. Here packs were slipped, saddles removed.

Mercedes was cold, lame, tired, but happy. It warmed Gale's blood to look at her. The shadow of fear still lay

in her eyes, but it was passing. Hope and courage shone there, and affection for her ranger protectors and the

Yaqui, and unutterable love for the cavalryman. Jim Lash remarked how cleverly they had fooled the rebels.

They built a fire, cooked and ate. The Yaqui spoke only one word: "Sleep." Blankets were spread. Mercedes

dropped into a deep slumber, her head on Thorne's shoulder. Excitement kept Throne awake. The two rangers

dozed beside the fire. Gale shared the Yaqui's watch. The sun began to climb and the icy edge of dawn to

wear away. Rabbits bobbed their cotton tails under the mesquite. Gale climbed a rocky wall above the arroyo

It was a sweeping, rolling, wrinkled, and streaked range of desert that he saw, ruddy in the morning sunlight,

with patches of cactus and mesquite roughetched in shimmering gloom. No Name Mountains split the

eastern sky, towering high, gloomy, grand, with purple veils upon their slopes. They were forty miles away

Yaqui kept the horses bunched, and he led them from one little park of galleta grass to another. At the end of

three hours he took them to water. Upon his return Gale clambered down from his outlook, the rangers grew

active. Mercedes was awakened; and soon the party faced westward, their long shadows moving before them.

Yaqui led with Blanco Diablo in a long, easy lope. The arroyo washed itself out into flat desert, and the

greens began to shade into gray, and then the gray into red. Only sparse cactus and weathered ledges dotted

the great low roll of a rising escarpment. Yaqui suited the gait of his horse to the lay of the land, and his

followers accepted his pace. There were canter and trot, and swift walk and slow climb, and long

swingmiles up and down and forward. The sun soared hot. The heated air lifted, and incoming currents

from the west swept low and hard over the barren earth. In the distance, all around the horizon, accumulations

Yaqui was the only one of the fugitives who never looked back. Mercedes did it the most. Gale felt what

compelled her, he could not resist it himself. But it was a vain search. For a thousand puffs of white and

yellow dust rose from that backward sweep of desert, and any one of them might have been blown from

under horses' hoofs. Gale had a conviction that when Yaqui gazed back toward the well and the shining plain

beyond, there would be reason for it. But when the sun lost its heat and the wind died down Yaqui took long

and careful surveys westward from the high points on the trail. Sunset was not far off, and there in a bare,

spotted valley lay Coyote Tanks, the only waterhole between Papago Well and the Sonoyta Oasis. Gale used

his glass, told Yaqui there was no smoke, no sign of life; still the Indian fixed his falcon eyes on distant spots

looked long. It was as if his vision could not detect what reason or cunning or intuition, perhaps an instinct,

told him was there. Presently in a sheltered spot, where blown sand had not obliterated the trail, Yaqui found

the tracks of horses. The curve of the iron shoes pointed westward. An intersecting trail from the north came

in here. Gale thought the tracks either one or two days old. Ladd said they were one day. The Indian shook

No farther advance was undertaken. The Yaqui headed south and traveled slowly, climbing to the brow of a

bold height of weathered mesa. There he sat his horse and waited. No one questioned him. The rangers

dismounted to stretch their legs, and Mercedes was lifted to a rock, where she rested. Thorne had gradually

yielded to the desert's influence for silence. He spoke once or twice to Gale, and occasionally whispered to

Mercedes. Gale fancied his friend would soon learn that necessary speech in desert travel meant a few

greetings, a few words to make real the fact of human companionship, a few short, terse terms for the

The sun went down, and the golden, rosy veils turned to blue and shaded darker till twilight was there in the

valley. Only the spurs of mountains, spiring the near and far horizon, retained their clear outline. Darkness

He did not point with arm, but his falcon head was outstretched, and his piercing eyes gazed at the blurring

Darkness increased momentarily till night shaded the deepest part of the valley.

Then Ladd suddenly straightened up, turned to his horse, and muttered low under his breath.

"I reckon so," said Lash, and for once his easy, goodnatured tone was not in evidence. His voice was harsh.

Gale's eyes, keen as they were, were last of the rangers to see tiny, needlepoints of light just faintly

Ladd did not reply; but Yaqui held up his hand, his fingers wide. Five campfires! A strong force of rebels or

Yaqui sat his horse for a moment, motionless as stone, his dark face immutable and impassive. Then he

stretched wide his right arm in the direction of No Name Mountains, now losing their last faint traces of the

afterglow, and he shook his head. He made the same impressive gesture toward the Sonoyta Oasis with the

Thereupon he turned Diablo's head to the south and started down the slope. His manner had been decisive,

even stern. Lash did not question it, nor did Ladd. Both rangers hesitated, however, and showed a strange,

almost sullen reluctance which Gale had never seen in them before. Raiders were one thing, Rojas was

another; Camino del Diablo still another; but that vast and desolate and unwatered waste of cactus and lava,

the Sonora Desert, might appall the stoutest heart. Gale felt his own sinkfelt himself flinch.

"Oh, where is he going?" cried Mercedes. Her poignant voice seemed to break a spell.

"Shore, lady, Yaqui's goin' home," replied Ladd, gently. "An' considerin' our troubles I reckon we ought to

Not until night travel was obstructed by a wall of cactus did the Indian halt to make a dry camp. Water and

grass for the horses and fire to cook by were not to be had. Mercedes bore up surprisingly; but she fell asleep

almost the instant her thirst had been allayed. Thorne laid her upon a blanket and covered her. The men ate

and drank. Diablo was the only horse that showed impatience; but he was angry, and not in distress. Blanco

Sol licked Gale's hand and stood patiently. Many a time had he taken his rest at night without a drink. Yaqui

again bade the men sleep. Ladd said he would take the early watch; but from the way the Indian shook his

head and settled himself against a stone, it appeared if Ladd remained awake he would have company. Gale

lay down weary of limb and eye. He heard the soft thump of hoofs, the sough of wind in the cactusthen no

When he awoke there was bustle and stir about him. Day had not yet dawned, and the air was freezing cold.

Yaqui had found a scant bundle of greasewood which served to warm them and to cook breakfast. Mercedes

Day dawned with the fugitives in the saddle. A picketed wall of cactus hedged them in, yet the Yaqui made a

tortuous path, that, zigzag as it might, in the main always headed south. It was wonderful how he slipped

Diablo through the narrow aisles of thorns, saving the horse and saving himself. The others were torn and

clutched and held and stung. The way was a flat, sandy pass between low mountain ranges. There were open

spots and aisles and squares of sand; and hedging rows of prickly pear and the huge spiderlegged ocatillo

and hummocky masses of clustered bisnagi. The day grew dry and hot. A fragrant wind blew through the

pass. Cactus flowers bloomed, red and yellow and magenta. The sweet, pale Ajo lily gleamed in shady

Ten miles of travel covered the length of the pass. It opened wide upon a wonderful scene, an arboreal desert,

dominated by its pure light green, yet lined by many merging colors. And it rose slowly to a low dim and

darkred zone of lava, spurred, peaked, domed by volcano cones, a wild and ragged region, illimitable as the

The Yaqui, if not at fault, was yet uncertain. His falcon eyes searched and roved, and became fixed at length

at the southwest, and toward this he turned his horse. The great, fluted saguaros, fifty, sixty feet high, raised

columnal forms, and their branching limbs and curving lines added a grace to the desert. It was the

lowbushed cactus that made the toil and pain of travel. Yet these thorny forms were beautiful.

In the basins between the ridges, to right and left along the floor of low plains the mirage glistened, wavered,

faded, vanishedlakes and trees and clouds. Inverted mountains hung suspended in the lilac air and faint

At noon Yaqui halted the cavalcade. He had selected a field of bisnagi cactus for the place of rest. Presently

his reason became obvious. With long, heavy knife he cut off the tops of these barrelshaped plants. He

scooped out soft pulp, and with stone and hand then began to pound the deeper pulp into a juicy mass. When

he threw this out there was a little water left, sweet, cool water which man and horse shared eagerly. Thus he

But he did not halt long. Miles of graygreen spiked walls lay between him and that line of ragged, red lava

which manifestly he must reach before dark. The travel became faster, straighter. And the glistening thorns

clutched and clung to leather and cloth and flesh. The horses reared, snorted, balked, leapedbut they were

sent on. Only Blanco Sol, the patient, the plodding, the indomitable, needed no goad or spur. Waves and

scarfs and wreaths of heat smoked up from the sand. Mercedes reeled in her saddle. Thorne bade her drink,

bathed her face, supported her, and then gave way to Ladd, who took the girl with him on Torre's broad back.

Yaqui's unflagging purpose and iron arm were bitter and hateful to the proud and haughty spirit of Blanco

Diablo. For once Belding's great white devil had met his master. He fought rider, bit, bridle, cactus,

sandand yet he went on and on, zigzagging, turning, winding, crashing through the barbed growths. The

middle of the afternoon saw Thorne reeling in his saddle, and then, wherever possible, Gale's powerful arm

The giant cactus came to be only so in name. These saguaros were thinning out, growing stunted, and most of

them were single columns. Gradually other cactus forms showed a harder struggle for existence, and the

spaces of sand between were wider. But now the dreaded, glistening choya began to show pale and gray and

white upon the rising slope. Roundtopped hills, sunsetcolored above, blueblack below, intervened to hide

the distant spurs and peaks. Mile and mile long tongues of red lava streamed out between the hills and wound

The fugitives were entering a desolate, burnedout world. It rose above them in limitless, gradual ascent and

spread wide to east and west. Then the waste of sand began to yield to cinders. The horses sank to their

fetlocks as they toiled on. A fine, choking dust blew back from the leaders, and men coughed and horses

snorted. The huge, round hills rose smooth, symmetrical, colored as if the setting sun was shining on bare,

blueblack surfaces. But the sun was now behind the hills. In between ran the streams of lava. The horsemen

skirted the edge between slope of hill and perpendicular ragged wall. This red lava seemed to have flowed

and hardened there only yesterday. It was broken sharp, dull rust color, full of cracks and caves and crevices,

Again twilight encompassed the travelers. But there was still light enough for Gale to see the constricted

passage open into a wide, deep space where the dull color was relieved by the gray of gnarled and dwarfed

mesquite. Blanco Sol, keenest of scent, whistled his welcome herald of water. The other horses answered,

Yaqui turned the corner of a pocket in the lava wall. The file of white horses rounded the corner after him.

And Gale, coming last, saw the pale, glancing gleam of a pool of water beautiful in the twilight.

Next day the Yaqui's relentless driving demand on the horses was no longer in evidence. He lost no time, but

he did not hasten. His course wound between low cinder dunes which limited their view of the surrounding

country. These dunes finally sank down to a black floor as hard as flint with tongues of lava to the left, and to

the right the slow descent into the cactus plain. Yaqui was now traveling due west. It was Gale's idea that the

Indian was skirting the first sharptoothed slope of a vast volcanic plateau which formed the western half of

the Sonora Desert and extended to the Gulf of California. Travel was slow, but not exhausting for rider or

beast. A little sand and meager grass gave a grayish tinge to the strip of black ground between lava and plain.

That day, as the manner rather than the purpose of the Yaqui changed, so there seemed to be subtle

differences in the others of the party. Gale himself lost a certain sickening dread, which had not been for

himself, but for Mercedes and Nell, and Thorne and the rangers. Jim, goodnatured again, might have been

patrolling the boundary line. Ladd lost his taciturnity and his gloom changed to a cool, careless air. A mood

that was almost defiance began to be manifested in Thorne. It was in Mercedes, however, that Gale marked

the most significant change. Her collapse the preceding day might never have been. She was lame and sore;

she rode her saddle sidewise, and often she had to be rested and helped; but she had found a reserve fund of

strength, and her mental condition was not the same that it had been. Her burden of fear had been lifted. Gale

saw in her the difference he always felt in himself after a few days in the desert. Already Mercedes and he,

and all of them, had begun to respond to the desert spirit. Moreover, Yaqui's strange influence must have

Thirty miles of easy stages brought the fugitives to another waterhole, a little round pocket under the

heavedup edge of lava. There was spare, short, bleached grass for the horses, but no wood for a fire. This

night there was question and reply, conjecture, doubt, opinion, and conviction expressed by the men of the

party. But the Indian, who alone could have told where they were, where they were going, what chance they

had to escape, maintained his stoical silence. Gale took the early watch, Ladd the midnight one, and Lash that

They day broke rosy, glorious, cold as ice. Action was necessary to make useful benumbed hands and feet.

Mercedes was fed while yet wrapped in blankets. Then, while the packs were being put on and horses

saddled, she walked up and down, slapping her hands, warming her ears. The rose color of the dawn was in

her cheeks, and the wonderful clearness of desert light in her eyes. Thorne's eyes sought her constantly. The

rangers watched her. The Yaqui bent his glance upon her only seldom; but when he did look it seemed that

his strange, fixed, and inscrutable face was about to break into a smile. Yet that never happened. Gale himself

was surprised to find how often his own glance found the slender, dark, beautiful Spaniard. Was this because

of her beauty? he wondered. He thought not altogether. Mercedes was a woman. She represented something

in life that men of all races for thousands of years had loved to see and own, to revere and debase, to fight and

It was a significant index to the day's travel that Yaqui should keep a blanket from the pack and tear it into

strips to bind the legs of the horses. It meant the dreaded choya and the knifeedged lava. That Yaqui did not

mount Diablo was still more significant. Mercedes must ride; but the others must walk.

The Indian led off into one of the gray notches between the tumbled streams of lava. These streams were

about thirty feet high, a rotting mass of splintered lava, rougher than any other kind of roughness in the

world. At the apex of the notch, where two streams met, a narrow gully wound and ascended. Gale caught

sight of the dim, pale shadow of a onetime trail. Near at hand it was invisible; he had to look far ahead to

catch the faint tracery. Yaqui led Diablo into it, and then began the most laborious and vexatious and painful

Once up on top of that lava bed, Gale saw stretching away, breaking into millions of crests and ruts, a vast,

redblack field sweeping onward and upward, with ragged, low ridges and mounds and spurs leading higher

and higher to a great, split escarpment wall, above which dim peaks shone hazily blue in the distance.

He looked no more in that direction. To keep his foothold, to save his horse, cost him all energy and

attention. The course was marked out for him in the tracks of the other horses. He had only to follow. But

nothing could have been more difficult. The disintegrating surface of a lava bed was at once the roughest, the

hardest, the meanest, the cruelest, the most deceitful kind of ground to travel.

It was rotten, yet it had corners as hard and sharp as pikes. It was rough, yet as slippery as ice. If there was a

foot of level surface, that space would be one to break through under a horse's hoofs. It was seamed, lined,

cracked, ridged, knotted iron. This lava bed resembled a tremendously magnified clinker. It had been a

running sea of molten flint, boiling, bubbling, spouting, and it had burst its surface into a million sharp facets

as it hardened. The color was dull, dark, angry red, like no other red, inflaming to the eye. The millions of

minute crevices were dominated by deep fissures and holes, ragged and rough beyond all comparison.

The fugitives made slow progress. They picked a cautious, winding way to and fro in little steps here and

there along the many twists of the trail, up and down the unavoidable depressions, round and round the holes.

At noon, so winding back upon itself had been their course, they appeared to have come only a short distance

It was rough work for them; it was terrible work for the horses. Blanco Diablo refused to answer to the power

of the Yaqui. He balked, he plunged, he bit and kicked. He had to be pulled and beaten over many places.

Mercedes's horse almost threw her, and she was put upon Blanco Sol. The white charger snorted a protest,

then, obedient to Gale's stern call, patiently lowered his noble head and pawed the lava for a footing that

The lava caused Gale toil and worry and pain, but he hated the choyas. As the travel progressed this species

of cactus increased in number of plants and in size. Everywhere the red lava was spotted with little round

patches of glistening frosty white. And under every bunch of choya, along and in the trail, were the discarded

joints, like little frosty pine cones covered with spines. It was utterly impossible always to be on the lookout

for these, and when Gale stepped on one, often as not the steellike thorns pierced leather and flesh. Gale

came almost to believe what he had heard claimed by desert travelersthat the choya was alive and leaped at

man or beast. Certain it was when Gale passed one, if he did not put all attention to avoiding it, he was

hooked through his chaps and held by barbed thorns. The pain was almost unendurable. It was like no other.

It burned, stung, beatalmost seemed to freeze. It made useless arm or leg. It made him bite his tongue to

Moreover, bad as the choya was for man, it was infinitely worse for beast. A jagged stab from this poisoned

cactus was the only thing Blanco Sol could not stand. Many times that day, before he carried Mercedes, he

had wildly snorted, and then stood trembling while Gale picked broken thorns from the muscular legs. But

The afternoon passed like the morning, in ceaseless winding and twisting and climbing along this abandoned

trail. Gale saw many waterholes, mostly dry, some containing water, all of them catchbasins, full only after

rainy season. Little ugly bunched bushes, that Gale scarcely recognized as mesquites, grew near these holes;

also stunted greasewood and prickly pear. There was no grass, and the choya alone flourished in that hard

Darkness overtook the party as they unpacked beside a pool of water deep under an overhanging shelf of

lava. It had been a hard day. The horses drank their fill, and then stood patiently with drooping heads. Hunger

and thirst appeased, and a warm fire cheered the weary and footsore fugitives. Yaqui said, "Sleep." And so

Upon the following morning, ten miles or more up the slowascending lava slope, Gale's attention was called

Gale was in the rear of all the other horses, so as to take, for Mercedes's sake, the advantage of the broken

trail. Yaqui was leading Diablo, winding around a break. His head was bent as he stepped slowly and

unevenly upon the lava. Gale turned to look back, the first time in several days. The mighty hollow of the

desert below seemed wide strip of redwide strip of greenwide strip of graystreaking to purple peaks.

It was all too vast, too mighty to grasp any little details. He thought, of course, of Rojas in certain pursuit; but

Yaqui led on, and Gale often glanced up from his task to watch the Indian. Presently he saw him stop, turn,

and look back. Ladd did likewise, and then Jim and Thorne. Gale found the desire irresistible. Thereafter he

often rested Blanco Sol, and looked back the while. He had his fieldglass, but did not choose to use it.

Gale regarded her in amaze. The tone of her voice had been indefinable. If there were fear then he failed to

detect it. She was gazing back down the colored slope, and something about her, perhaps the steady, falcon

Many times during the ensuing hour the Indian faced about, and always his followers did likewise. It was

high noon, with the sun beating hot and the lava radiating heat, when Yaqui halted for a rest. The place

selected was a ridge of lava, almost a promontory, considering its outlook. The horses bunched here and

drooped their heads. The rangers were about to slip the packs and remove saddles when Yaqui restrained

He fixed a changeless, gleaming gaze on the slow descent; but did not seem to look afar.

Suddenly he uttered his strange crythe one Gale considered involuntary, or else significant of some tribal

trait or feeling. It was incomprehensible, but no one could have doubted its potency. Yaqui pointed down the

lava slope, pointed with finger and arm and neck and headhis whole body was instinct with direction. His

whole being seemed to have been animated and then frozen. His posture could not have been misunderstood,

yet his expression had not altered. Gale had never seen the Indian's face change its hard, redbronze calm. It

"I reckon I ain't sure of mine," replied Jim. "I'm bothered by a dim movin' streak down there."

Thorne gazed eagerly down as he stood beside Mercedes, who sat motionless facing the slope. Gale looked

and looked till he hurt his eyes. Then he took his glass out of its case on Sol's saddle.

There appeared to be nothing upon the lava but the innumerable dots of choya shining in the sun. Gale swept

his glass slowly forward and back. Then into a nearer field of vision crept a long whiteandblack line of

horses and men. Without a word he handed the glass to Ladd. The ranger used it, muttering to himself.

"They're on the lava fifteen miles down in an air line," he said, presently. "Jim, shore they're twice that an'

"Yes, Thorne. It's Rojas and a dozen men or more," replied Gale, and he looked up at Mercedes.

She was transformed. She might have been a medieval princess embodying all the Spanish power and passion

of that time, breathing revenge, hate, unquenchable spirit of fire. If her beauty had been wonderful in her

helpless and appealing moments, now, when she looked back whitefaced and flameeyed, it was

Gale drew a long, deep breath. The mood which had presaged pursuit, strife, blood on this somber desert,

returned to him tenfold. He saw Thorne's face corded by black veins, and his teeth exposed like those of a

snarling wolf. These rangers, who had coolly risked death many times, and had dealt it often, were white as

no fear or pain could have made them. Then, on the moment, Yaqui raised his hand, not clenched or doubled

tight, but curled rigid like an eagle's claw; and he shook it in a strange, slow gesture which was menacing and

It was the woman that called to the depths of these men. And their passion to kill and to save was surpassed

only by the wild hate which was yet love, the unfathomable emotion of a peon slave. Gale marveled at it,

while he felt his whole being cold and tense, as he turned once more to follow in the tracks of his leaders. The

fight predicted by Belding was at hand. What a fight that must be! Rojas was traveling light and fast. He was

gaining. He had bought his men with gold, with extravagant promises, perhaps with offers of the body and

blood of an aristocrat hateful to their kind. Lastly, there was the wild, desolate environment, a tortured

wilderness of jagged lava and poisoned choya, a lonely, fierce, and repellant world, a red stage most

Yaqui looked back no more. Mercedes looked back no more. But the others looked, and the time came when

A level line above marked the rim of the plateau. Sand began to show in the little lava pits. On and upward

toiled the cavalcade, still very slowly advancing. At last Yaqui reached the rim. He stood with his hand on

Blanco Diablo; and both were silhouetted against the sky. That was the outlook for a Yaqui. And his great

horse, dazzlingly white in the sunlight, with head wildly and proudly erect, mane and tail flying in the wind,

made a magnificent picture. The others toiled on and upward, and at last Gale led Blanco Sol over the rim.

Yaqui mounted and wheeled Diablo away. The others followed. Gale saw that the plateau was no more than a

vast field of low, ragged circles, levels, mounds, cones, and whirls of lava. The lava was of a darker red than

that down upon the slope, and it was harder than flint. In places fine sand and cinders covered the uneven

floor. Strange varieties of cactus vied with the omnipresent choya. Yaqui, however, found ground that his

But there was only an hour, perhaps, of this comparatively easy going. Then the Yaqui led them into a zone

of craters. The top of the earth seemed to have been blown out in holes from a few rods in width to large

craters, some shallow, others deep, and all red as fire. Yaqui circled close to abysses which yawned sheer

from a level surface, and he appeared always to be turning upon his course to avoid them.

The plateau had now a considerable dip to the west. Gale marked the slow heave and ripple of the ocean of

lava to the south, where high, rounded peaks marked the center of this volcanic region. The uneven nature of

the slope westward prevented any extended view, until suddenly the fugitives emerged from a rugged break

They were upon a high point of the western slope of the plateau. It was a slope, but so many leagues long in

its descent that only from a height could any slant have been perceptible. Yaqui and his white horse stood

upon the brink of a crater miles in circumference, a thousand feet deep, with its red walls patched in

frostcolored spots by the silvery choya. The giant tracery of lava streams waved down the slope to disappear

in undulating sand dunes. And these bordered a seemingly endless arm of blue sea. This was the Gulf of

California. Beyond the Gulf rose dim, bold mountains, and above them hung the setting sun, dusky red,

It was strange to Gale then, and perhaps to the others, to see their guide lead Diablo into a smooth and

wellworn trail along the rim of the awful crater. Gale looked down into that red chasm. It resembled an

inferno. The dark cliffs upon the opposite side were veiled in blue haze that seemed like smoke. Here Yaqui

was at home. He moved and looked about him as a man coming at last into his own. Gale saw him stop and

Gale devined that somewhere along this crater of hell the Yaqui would make his final stand; and one look

into his strange, inscrutable eyes made imagination picture a fitting doom for the pursuing Rojas.

THE trail led along a gigantic fissure in the side of the crater, and then down and down into a redwalled,

Presently Gale, upon turning a sharp corner, was utterly amazed to see that the split in the lava sloped out and

widened into an arroyo. It was so green and soft and beautiful in all the angry, contorted red surrounding that

Gale could scarcely credit his sight. Blanco Sol whistled his welcome to the scent of water. Then Gale saw a

great hole, a pit in the shiny lava, a dark, cool, shady well. There was evidence of the fact that at flood

seasons the water had an outlet into the arroyo. The soil appeared to be a fine sand, in which a reddish tinge

predominated; and it was abundantly covered with a long grass, still partly green. Mesquites and palo verdes

"Shore it all beats me," exclaimed Ladd. "What a place to holeup in! We could have hid here for a long

time. Boys, I saw mountain sheep, the real old genuine Rocky Mountain bighorn. What do you think of that?"

"I reckon it's a Yaqui huntingground," replied Lash. "That trail we hit must be hundreds of years old. It's

"Well, all I got to say isBeldin' was shore right about the Indian. An' I can see Rojas's finish somewhere up

Camp was made on a level spot. Yaqui took the horses to water, and then turned them loose in the arroyo. It

was a tired and somber group that sat down to eat. The strain of suspense equaled the wearing effects of the

long ride. Mercedes was calm, but her great dark eyes burned in her white face. Yaqui watched her. The

others looked at her with unspoken pride. Presently Thorne wrapped her in his blankets, and she seemed to

fall asleep at once. Twilight deepened. The campfire blazed brighter. A cool wind played with Mercedes's

Little of Yaqui's purpose or plan could be elicited from him. But the look of him was enough to satisfy even

Thorne. He leaned against a pile of wood, which he had collected, and his gloomy gaze pierced the campfire,

The rangers and Thorne, however, talked in low tones. It was absolutely impossible for Rojas and his men to

reach the waterhole before noon of the next day. And long before that time the fugitives would have decided

on a plan of defense. What that defense would be, and where it would be made, were matters over which the

men considered gravely. Ladd averred the Yaqui would put them into an impregnable position, that at the

same time would prove a deathtrap for their pursuers. They exhausted every possibility, and then, tired as

"What stuns me is that Rojas stuck to our trail," said Thorne, his lined and haggard face expressive of dark

passion. "He has followed us into this fearful desert. He'll lose men, horses, perhaps his life. He's only a

bandit, and he stands to win no gold. If he ever gets out of here it 'll be by herculean labor and by terrible

hardship. All for a poor little helpless womanjust a woman! My God, I can't understand it."

Then there was a long silence during which the men gazed into the fire. Each, perhaps, had some vague

conception of the enormity of Rojas's love or hatesome faint and amazing glimpse of the gulf of human

Thorne rolled in his blanket close beside Mercedes. Then one by one the rangers stretched out, feet to the fire.

Gale found that he could not sleep. His eyes were weary, but they would not stay shut; his body ached for

rest, yet he could not lie still. The night was so somber, so gloomy, and the lavaencompassed arroyo full of

shadows. The dark velvet sky, fretted with white fire, seemed to be close. There was an absolute silence, as of

death. Nothing movednothing outside of Gale's body appeared to live. The Yaqui sat like an image carved

out of lava. The others lay prone and quiet. Would another night see any of them lie that way, quiet forever?

Gale felt a ripple pass over him that was at once a shudder and a contraction of muscles. Used as he was to

the desert and its oppression, why should he feel tonight as if the weight of its lava and the burden of its

He sat up after a while and again watched the fire. Nell's sweet face floated like a wraith in the pale

smokeglowed and flushed and smiled in the embers. Other faces shone therehis sister's that of his

mother. Gale shook off the tender memories. This desolate wilderness with its forbidding silence and its dark

promise of hell on the morrowthis was not the place to unnerve oneself with thoughts of love and home.

But the torturing paradox of the thing was that this was just the place and just the night for a man to be

By and by Gale rose and walked down a shadowy aisle between the mesquites. On his way back the Yaqui

joined him. Gale was not surprised. He had become used to the Indian's strange guardianship. But now,

perhaps because of Gale's poignancy of thought, the contending tides of love and regret, the deep, burning

premonition of deadly strife, he was moved to keener scrutiny of the Yaqui. That, of course, was futile. The

Indian was impenetrable, silent, strange. But suddenly, inexplicably, Gale felt Yaqui's human quality. It was

aloof, as was everything about this Indian; but it was there. This savage walked silently beside him, without

glance or touch or word. His thought was as inscrutable as if mind had never awakened in his race. Yet Gale

was conscious of greatness, and, somehow, he was reminded of the Indian's story. His home had been

desolated, his people carried off to slavery, his wife and children separated from him to die. What had life

meant to the Yaqui? What had been in his heart? What was now in his mind? Gale could not answer these

questions. But the difference between himself and Yaqui, which he had vaguely felt as that between savage

and civilized men, faded out of his mind forever. Yaqui might have considered he owed Gale a debt, and,

with a Yaqui's austere and noble fidelity to honor, he meant to pay it. Nevertheless, this was not the thing

Gale found in the Indian's silent presence. Accepting the desert with its subtle and inconceivable influence,

Gale felt that the savage and the white man had been bound in a tie which was no less brotherly because it

Toward dawn Gale managed to get some sleep. Then the morning broke with the sun hidden back of the

uplift of the plateau. The horses trooped up the arroyo and snorted for water. After a hurried breakfast the

packs were hidden in holes in the lava. The saddles were left where they were, and the horses allowed to

graze and wander at will. Canteens were filled, a small bag of food was packed, and blankets made into a

The trail he followed led up on the right side of the fissure, opposite to the one he had come down. It was a

steep climb, and encumbered as the men were they made but slow progress. Mercedes had to be lifted up

smooth steps and across crevices. They passed places where the rims of the fissure were but a few yards

apart. At length the rims widened out and the red, smoky crater yawned beneath. Yaqui left the trail and

began clambering down over the rough and twisted convolutions of lava which formed the rim. Sometimes he

hung sheer over the precipice. It was with extreme difficulty that the party followed him. Mercedes had to be

held on narrow, footwide ledges. The choya was there to hinder passage. Finally the Indian halted upon a

narrow bench of flat, smooth lava, and his followers worked with exceeding care and effort down to his

At the back of this bench, between bunches of choya, was a niche, a shallow cave with floor lined apparently

with mold. Ladd said the place was a refuge which had been inhabited by mountain sheep for many years.

Yaqui spread blankets inside, left the canteen and the sack of food, and with a gesture at once humble, yet

that of a chief, he invited Mercedes to enter. A few more gestures and fewer words disclosed his plan. In this

inaccessible nook Mercedes was to be hidden. The men were to go around upon the opposite rim, and block

Gale marked the nature of this eyrie. It was the wildest and most rugged place he had ever stepped upon.

Only a sheep could have climbed up the wall above or along the slanting shelf of lava beyond. Below

glistened a whole bank of choya, frosty in the sunlight, and it overhung an apparently bottomless abyss.

"Shore it's best to go the limit on bein' ready," he said, simply. "The chances are you'll never need it. But if

He left off there, and his break was significant. Mercedes answered him with a fearless and indomitable flash

of eyes. Thorne was the only one who showed any shaken nerve. His leavetaking of his wife was affecting

and hurried. Then he and the rangers carefully stepped in the tracks of the Yaqui.

They climbed up to the level of the rim and went along the edge. When they reached the fissure and came

upon its narrowest point, Yaqui showed in his actions that he meant to leap it. Ladd restrained the Indian.

They then continued along the rim till they reached several bridges of lava which crossed it. The fissures was

deep in some parts, choked in others. Evidently the crater had no direct outlet into the arroyo below. Its

After the fissure was crossed the trail was soon found. Here it ran back from the rim. Yaqui waved his hand

to the right, where along the corrugated slope of the crater there were holes and crevices and coverts for a

hundred men. Yaqui strode on up the trail toward a higher point, where presently his dark figure stood

motionless against the sky. The rangers and Thorne selected a deep depression, out of which led several ruts

deep enough for cover. According to Ladd it was as good a place as any, perhaps not so hidden as others, but

freer from the dreaded choya. Here the men laid down rifles and guns, and, removing their heavy cartridge

Their location was close to the rim wall and probably five hundred yards from the opposite rim, which was

now seen to be considerably below them. The glaring red cliff presented a deceitful and baffling appearance.

It had a thousand ledges and holes in its surfaces, and one moment it looked perpendicular and the next there

seemed to be a long slant. Thorne pointed out where he thought Mercedes was hidden; Ladd selected another

place, and Lash still another. Gale searched for the bank of choya he had seen under the bench where

Mercedes's retreat lay, and when he found it the others disputed his opinion. Then Gale brought his field glass

into requisition, proving that he was right. Once located and fixed in sight, the white patch of choya, the

bench, and the sheep eyrie stood out from the other features of that rugged wall. But all the men were agreed

that Yaqui had hidden Mercedes where only the eyes of a vulture could have found her.

Jim Lash crawled into a little strip of shade and bided the time tranquilly. Ladd was restless and impatient

and watchful, every little while rising to look up the farreaching slope, and then to the right, where Yaqui's

dark figure stood out from a high point of the rim. Thorne grew silent, and seemed consumed by a slow,

sullen rage. Gale was neither calm nor free of a gnawing suspense nor of a waiting wrath. But as best he

It came over him all of a sudden that he had not grasped the stupendous nature of this desert setting. There

was the measureless red slope, its lower ridges finally sinking into white sand dunes toward the blue sea. The

cold, sparkling light, the white sun, the deep azure of sky, the feeling of boundless expanse all around

himthese meant high altitude. Southward the barren red simply merged into distance. The field of craters

rose in high, dark wheels toward the dominating peaks. When Gale withdrew his gaze from the magnitude of

these spaces and heights the crater beneath him seemed dwarfed. Yet while he gazed it spread and deepened

and multiplied its ragged lines. No, he could not grasp the meaning of size or distance here. There was too

much to stun the sight. But the mood in which nature had created this convulsed world of lava seized hold

Meanwhile the hours passed. As the sun climbed the clear, steely lights vanished, the blue hazes deepened,

and slowly the glistening surfaces of lava turned redder. Ladd was concerned to discover that Yaqui was

missing from his outlook upon the high point. Jim Lash came out of the shady crevice, and stood up to buckle

on his cartridge belt. His narrow, gray glance slowly roved from the height of lava down along the slope,

paused in doubt, and then swept on to resurvey the whole vast eastern dip of the plateau.

"I reckon my eyes are pore," he said. "Mebbe it's this damn red glare. Anyway, what's them creepin' spots up

Gale adjusted the field glass and began to search the lava, beginning close at hand and working away from

"I see half a dozen small animals, brown in color. They look like sheep. But I couldn't distinguish mountain

"I reckon if you'll pull around to the east an' search under that long wall of lavathereyou'll see what I

The glass climbed and circled, wavered an instant, then fixed steady as a rock. There was a breathless silence.

"Fourteen horsestwo packedsome mountedothers without riders, and lame," said Gale, slowly.

Yaqui appeared far up the trail, coming swiftly. Presently he saw the rangers and halted to wave his arms and

"Lemme that glass," suddenly said Jim Lash. "I'm seein' red, I tell you....Well, pore as my eyes are they had it

"Laddy, I'll be danged if the Greaser bunch hasn't vamoosed. Gone out of sight! Right there not a half mile

"Shore they're behind a crust or have gone down into a rut," suggested Ladd. "They'll show again in a minute.

Minutes passed, but nothing moved upon the slope. Each man crawled up to a vantage point along the crest of

rotting lava. The watchers were careful to peer through little notches or from behind a spur, and the

constricted nature of their hidingplace kept them close together. Ladd's muttering grew into a growl, then

lapsed into the silence that marked his companions. From time to time the rangers looked inquiringly at Gale.

The field glass, however, like the naked sight, could not catch the slightest moving object out there upon the

Indeed, the strange mien, the silent action, the somber character of the Indian had not been without effect

upon the minds of the men. Then the weird, desolate, tragic scene added to the vague sense of mystery. And

now the disappearance of Rojas's band, the long wait in the silence, the boding certainty of invisible foes

crawling, circling closer and closer, lent to the situation a final touch that made it unreal.

"I'm reckonin' there's a mind behind them Greasers," replied Jim. "Or mebbe we ain't done Rojas credit...If

That Lash, the coolest, most provokingly nonchalant of men in times of peril, should begin to show a nervous

"Boys, look sharp!" suddenly called Lash. "Low down to the left mebbe three hundred yards. See, along

by them seams of lava behind the choyas. First off I thought it was a sheep. But it's the Yaqui!...Crawlin'

It was a full moment before Jim's companions could locate the Indian. Flat as a snake Yaqui wound himself

along with incredible rapidity. His advance was all the more remarkable for the fact that he appeared to pass

directly under the dreaded choyas. Sometimes he paused to lift his head and look. He was directly in line with

a huge whorl of lava that rose higher than any point on the slope. This spur was a quarter of a mile from the

"Shore he's headin' for that high place," said Ladd. "He's goin' slow now. There, he's stopped behind some

"Laddy, take a peek at the side of that lava ridge," sharply called Jim. "I guess mebbe somethin' ain't comin'

off. See! There's Rojas an' his outfit climbin'. Don't make out no hosses....Dick, use your glass an' tell us

Clearly and distinctly, almost as if he could have touched them, Gale had Rojas and his followers in sight.

They were toiling up the rough lava on foot. They were heavily armed. Spurs, chaps, jackets, scarfs were not

in evidence. Gale saw the lean, swarthy faces, the black, straggly hair, the ragged, soiled garments which had

"They're almost up now," Gale was saying. "There! They halt on top. I see Rojas. He looks wild. By!

fellows, an Indian! ...It's a Papago. Belding's old herder!...The Indian points this waythen down. He's

"Boys, Yaqui's in range of that bunch," said Jim, swiftly. "He's raisin' his rifle slowLord, how slow he

is!...He's covered some one. Which one I can't say. But I think he'll pick Rojas."

"Not on your life!" Ladd's voice cut in with scorn. "Gentlemen, you can gamble Yaqui 'll kill the Papago.

More shots rang out. Yaqui was seen standing erect firing rapidly at the darting Mexicans. For all Gale could

make out no second bullet took effect. Rojas and his men vanished behind the bulge of lava. Then Yaqui

deliberately backed away from his postion. He made no effort to run or hide. Evidently he watched cautiously

for signs of pursuers in the ruts and behind the choyas. Presently he turned and came straight toward the

position of the rangers, sheered off perhaps a hundred paces below it, and disappeared in a crevice. Plainly

"Shore, Jim, you had your wish. Somethin' come off," said Ladd. "An' I'm sayin' thank God for the Yaqui!

That Papago 'd have ruined us. Even so, mebbe he's told Rojas more'n enough to make us sweat blood."

"He had a chance to kill Rojas," cried out the drawnfaced, passionate Thorne. "He didn't take it!...He didn't

"Listen, son," he said, and his voice rang. "Weall know how you feel. An' if I'd had that one shot never in

the world could I have picked the Papago guide. I'd have had to kill Rojas. That's the white man of it. But

Yaqui was right. Only an Indian could have done it. You can gamble the Papago alive meant slim chance for

us. Because he'd led straight to where Mercedes is hidden, an' then we'd have left cover to fight it out...When

you come to think of the Yaqui's hate for Greasers, when you just seen him pass up a shot at onewell, I

don't know how to say what I mean, but damn me, my sombrerro is off to the Indian!"

"I reckon so, an' I reckon the ball's opened," rejoined Lash, and now that former nervous impatience so

unnatural to him was as if it had never been. He was smilingly cool, and his voice had almost a caressing

note. He tapped the breech of his Winchester with a sinewy brown hand, and he did not appear to be

addressing any one in particular. "Yaqui's opened the ball. Look up your pardners there, gents, an' get ready

Another wait set in then, and judging by the more direct rays of the sun and a receding of the little shadows

cast by the choyas, Gale was of the opinion that it was a long wait. But it seemed short. The four men were

lying under the bank of a half circular hole in the lava. It was notched and cracked, and its rim was fringed by

choyas. It sloped down and opened to an unobstructed view of the crater. Gale had the upper position,

fartherest to the right, and therefore was best shielded from possible fire from the higher ridges of the rim,

some three hundred yards distant. Jim came next, well hidden in a crack. The positions of Thorne and Ladd

were most exposed. They kept sharp lookout over the uneven rampart of their hidingplace.

The sun passed the zenith, began to slope westward, and to grow hotter as it sloped. The men waited and

waited. Gale saw no impatience even in Thorne. The sultry air seemed to be laden with some burden or

quality that was at once composed of heat, menace, color, and silence. Even the light glancing up from the

lava seemed red and the silence had substance. Sometimes Gale felt that it was unbearable. Yet he made no

Suddenly this dead stillness was rent by a shot, clear and stinging, close at hand. It was from a rifle, not a

carbine. With startling quickness a cry followeda cry that pierced Galeit was so thin, so highkeyed, so

Carbines began to crack. The reports were quick, light, like sharp spats without any ring. Gale peered from

behind the edge of his covert. Above the ragged wave of lava floated faint whitish clouds, all that was visible

of smokeless powder. Then Gale made out round spots, dark against the background of red, and in front of

them leaped out small tongues of fire. Ladd's .405 began to "spang" with its beautiful sound of power. Thorne

was firing, somewhat wildly Gale thought. Then Jim Lash pushed his Winchester over the rim under a choya,

and between shots Gale could hear him singing: "Turn the lady, turnturn the lady, turn!...Alaman

left!...Swing your pardners!...Forward an' back!...Turn the lady, turn!" Gale got into the fight himself, not so

sure that he hit any of the round, bobbing objects he aimed at, but growing sure of himself as action liberated

Then over the position of the rangers came a hail of steel bullets. Those that struck the lava hissed away into

the crater; those that came biting through the choyas made a sound which resembled a sharp ripping of silk.

Bits of cactus stung Gale's face, and he dreaded the flying thorns more than he did the flying bullets.

"Hold on, boys," called Ladd, as he crouched down to reload his rifle. "Save your shells. The greasers are

spreadin' on us, some goin' down below Yaqui, others movin' up for that high ridge. When they get up there

I'm damned if it won't be hot for us. There ain't room for all of us to hide here."

Ladd raised himself to peep over the rim. Shots were now scattering, and all appeared to come from below.

Emboldened by this he rose higher. A shot from in front, a rip of bullet through the choya, a spat of

something hitting Ladd's face, a steel missle hissing onwardthese inseparably blended sounds were all

With a curse Ladd tumbled down into the hole. His face showed a great gray blotch, and starting blood. Gale

felt a sickening assurance of desperate injury to the ranger. He ran to him calling: "Laddy! Laddy!"

"Shore I ain't plugged. It's a damn choya burr. The bullet knocked it in my face. Pull it out!"

The oval, longspiked cone was firmly imbedded in Ladd's cheek. Blood streamed down his face and neck.

Carefully, yet with no thought of pain to himself, Gale tried to pull the cactus joint away. It was as firm as if

it had been nailed there. That was the damnable feature of the barbed thorns: once set, they held on as that

strange plant held to its desert life. Ladd began to writhe, and sweat mingled with the blood on his face. He

cursed and raved, and his movements made it almost impossible for Gale to do anything.

Thus ordered, Gale slipped a long blade in between the imbedded thorns, and with a powerful jerk literally

tore the choya out of Ladd's quivering flesh. Then, where the ranger's face was not red and raw, it certainly

A volley of shots from a different angle was followed by the quick ring of steel bullets striking the lava all

around Gale. His first idea, as he heard the projectiles sing and hum and whine away into the air, was that

they were coming from above him. He looked up to see a number of low, white and dark knobs upon the high

point of lava. They had not been there before. Then he saw little, pale, leaping tongues of fire. As he dodged

down he distinctly heard a bullet strike Ladd. At the same instant he seemed to hear Thorne cry out and fall,

Ladd fell backward still holding the .405. Gale dragged him into the shelter of his own position, and dreading

to look at him, took up the heavy weapon. It was with a kind of savage strength that he gripped the rifle; and

it was with a cold and deadly intent that he aimed and fired. The first Greaser huddled low, let his carbine go

clattering down, and then crawled behind the rim. The second and third jerked back. The fourth seemed to

flop up over the crest of lava. A dark arm reached for him, clutched his leg, tried to drag him up. It was in

vain. Wildly grasping at the air the bandit fell, slid down a steep shelf, rolled over the rim, to go hurtling

Fingering the hot rifle with closepressed hands, Gale watched the sky line along the high point of lava. It

remained unbroken. As his passion left him he feared to look back at his companions, and the cold chill

"ShoreI'm damn gladthem Greasers ain't usin' softnose bullets," drawled a calm voice.

"I ain't amindin' the bullet much. But that choya joint took my nerve, an' you can gamble on it. Dick, this

The ranger's blouse was open at the neck, and on his right shoulder under the collar bone was a small hole

"Sure it's high, Laddy," replied Gale, gladly. "Went clear through, clean as a whistle!"

He tore a handkerchief into two parts, made wads, and pressing them close over the wounds he bound them

"Shore it's funny how a bullet can floor a man an' then not do any damage," said Ladd. "I felt a zip of wind

an' somethin' like a pat on my chest an' down I went. Well, so much for the small caliber with their steel

"Laddy, II'm afraid Thorne's done for," whispered Gale. "He's lying over there in that crack. I can see part

"I was wonderin' if I'd have to tell you that. Dick, he went down hard hit, fallin', you know, limp an' soggy. It

was a moral cinch one of us would get it in this fight; but God! I'm sorry Thorne had to be the man."

"Laddy, maybe he's not dead," replied Gale. He called aloud to his friend. There was no answer.

Ladd got up, and, after peering keenly at the height of lava, he strode swiftly across the space. It was only a

dozen steps to the crack in the lava whereThorne had fallen head first. Ladd bent over, went to his knees, so

that Gale saw only his head. Then he appeared rising with arms round the cavalryman. He dragged him

across the hole to the sheltered corner that alone afforded protection. He had scarcely reached it when a

carbine cracked and a bullet struck the flinty lava, striking sparks, then singing away into the air.

Thorne was either dead or unconscious, and Gale, with a contracting throat and numb heart, decided for the

former. Not so Ladd, who probed the bloody gash on Thorne's temple, and then felt his breast.

"He's alive an' not bad hurt. That bullet hit him glancin'. Shore them steel bullets are some lucky for us. Dick,

you needn't look so glum. I tell you he ain't bad hurt. I felt his skull with my finger. There's no hole in it.

Wash him off an' tie Wow! did you get the wind of that one? An' mebbe it didn't sing off the lava!... Dick,

The completion of his speech was the stirring ring of the .405, and then he uttered a laugh that was

"Shore, Greaser, there's a man's size bullet for you. No slim, sharppointed, steeljacket nail! I'm takin' it on

me to believe you're appreciatin' of the .405, seein' as you don't make no fuss."

It was indeed a joy to Gale to find that Thorne had not received a wound necessarily fatal, though it was

serious enough. Gale bathed and bound it, and laid the cavalryman against the slant of the bank, his head high

As Gale straightened up Ladd muttered low and deep, and swung the heavy rifle around to the left. Far along

the slope a figure moved. Ladd began to work the lever of the Winchester and to shoot. At every shot the

heavy firearm sprang up, and the recoil made Ladd's shoulder give back. Gale saw the bullets strike the lava

behind, beside, before the fleeing Mexican, sending up dull puffs of dust. On the sixth shot he plunged down

"Dick, mebbe there's one or two left above; but we needn't figure much on it," said Ladd, as, loading the rifle,

he jerked his fingers quickly from the hot breech. "Listen! Jim an' Yaqui are hittin' it up lively down below.

I'll sneak down there. You stay here an' keep about half an eye peeled up yonder, an' keep the rest my way."

Ladd crossed the hole, climbed down into the deep crack where Thorne had fallen, and then went stooping

along with only his head above the level. Presently he disappeared. Gale, having little to fear from the high

ridge, directed most of his attention toward the point beyond which Ladd had gone. The firing had become

desultory, and the light carbine shots outnumbered the sharp rifle shots five to one. Gale made a note of the

fact that for some little time he had not heard the unmistakable report of Jim Lash's automatic. Then ensued a

long interval in which the desert silence seemed to recover its grip. The .405 ripped it

asunderspangspang spang. Gale fancied he heard yells. There were a few pattering shots still farther

down the trail. Gale had an uneasy conviction that Rojas and some of his band might go straight to the

There seemed a lull in the battle. Gale ventured to stand high, and screened behind choyas, he swept the

threequarter circle of lava with his glass. In the distance he saw horses, but no riders. Below him, down the

slope along the crater rim and the trail, the lava was bare of all except tufts of choya. Gale gathered

assurance. It looked as if the day was favoring his side. Then Thorne, coming partly to consciousness,

engaged Gale's care. The cavalryman stirred and moaned, called for water, and then for Mercedes. Gale held

For the first time in hours, as it seemed, Gale took note of the physical aspect of his surroundings. He began

to look upon them without keen gaze strained for crouching form, or bobbing head, or spouting carbine.

Either Gale's sense of color and proportion had become deranged during the fight, or the encompassing air

and the desert had changed. Even the sun had changed. It seemed lowering, oval in shape, magenta in hue,

and it had a surface that gleamed like oil on water. Its red rays shone through red haze. Distances that had

formerly been clearly outlined were now dim, obscured. The yawning chasm was not the same. It circled

wider, redder, deeper. It was a weird, ghastly mouth of hell. Gale stood fascinated, unable to tell how much

he saw was real, how much exaggeration of overwrought emotions. There was no beauty here, but an

unparalleled grandeur, a sublime scene of devastation and desolation which might have had its counterpart

upon the burnedout moon. The mood that gripped Gale now added to its somber portent an unshakable

He wrestled with the spell as if it were a physical foe. Reason and intelligence had their voices in his mind;

but the moment was not one wherein these things could wholly control. He felt life strong within his breast,

yet there, a step away, was death, yawning, glaring, smoky, red. It was a momentan hour for a savage,

born, bred, developed in this scarred and blasted place of jagged depths and red distances and silences never

meant to be broken. Since Gale was not a savage he fought that call of the red gods which sent him back

down the long ages toward his primitive day. His mind combated his sense of sight and the hearing that

seemed useless; and his mind did not win all the victory. Something fatal was here, hanging in the balance, as

Suddenly harsh, prolonged yells brought him to his feet, and the unrealities vanished. Far down the trails

where the crater rims closed in the deep fissure he saw moving forms. They were three in number. Two of

them ran nimbly across the lava bridge. The third staggered far behind. It was Ladd. He appeared hard hit. He

dragged at the heavy rifle which he seemed unable to raise. The yells came from him. He was calling the

Gale's heart stood still momentarily. Here, then, was the catastrophe! He hardly dared sweep that fissure with

his glass. The two fleeing figures haltedturned to fire at Ladd. Gale recognized the foremost onesmall,

compact, gaudy. Rojas! The bandit's arm was outstretched. Puffs of white smoke rose, and shots rapped out.

When Ladd went down Rojas threw his gun aside and with a wild yell bounded over the lava. His companion

A tide of passion, first hot as fire, then cold as ice, rushed over Gale when he saw Rojas take the trail toward

Mercedes's hidingplace. The little bandit appeared to have the surefootedness of a mountain sheep. The

Mexican following was not so sure or fast. He turned back. Gale heard the trenchant bark of the .405. Ladd

was kneeling. He shot againagain. The retreating bandit seemed to run full into an invisible obstacle, then

fell lax, inert, lifeless. Rojas sped on unmindful of the spurts of dust about him. Yaqui, high above Ladd, was

also firing at the bandit. Then both rifles were emptied. Rojas turned at a high break in the trail. He shook a

defiant hand, and his exulting yell pealed faintly to Gale's ears. About him there was something desperate,

Ladd dropped the .405, and rising, gun in hand, he staggered toward the bridge of lava. Before he had crossed

it Yaqui came bounding down the slope, and in one splendid leap he cleared the fissure. He ran beyond the

trail and disappeared on the lava above. Rojas had not seen this sudden, darting move of the Indian.

Gale felt himself bitterly powerless to aid in that pursuit. He could only watch. He wondered, fearfully, what

had become of Lash. Presently, when Rojas came out of the cracks and ruts of lava there might be a chance of

disabling him by a long shot. His progress was now slow. But he was making straight for Mercedes's

hidingplace. What was it leading him therean eagle eye, or hate, or instinct? Why did he go on when

there could be no turning back for him on that trail? Ladd was slow, heavy, staggering on the trail; but he was

relentless. Only death could stop the ranger now. Surely Rojas must have known that when he chose the trail.

From time to time Gale caught glimpses of Yaqui's dark figure stealing along the higher rim of the crater. He

Momentsendless moments dragged by. The lowering sun colored only the upper half of the crater walls.

Far down the depths were murky blue. Again Gale felt the insupportable silence. The red haze became a

transparent veil before his eyes. Sinister, evil, brooding, waiting, seemed that yawning abyss. Ladd staggered

along the trail, at times he crawled. The Yaqui gained; he might have had wings; he leaped from jagged crust

But for Gale the marvel of that endless period of watching was the purpose of the bandit Rojas. He had now

no weapon. Gale's glass made this fact plain. There was death behind him, death below him, death before

him, and though he could not have known it, death above him. He never falterednever made a misstep

upon the narrow, flinty trail. When he reached the lower end of the level ledge Gale's poignant doubt became

a certainty. Rojas had seen Mercedes. It was incredible, yet Gale believed it. Then, his heart clamped as in an

icy vise, Gale threw forward the Remington, and sinking on one knee, began to shoot. He emptied the

As Gale began to reload he was horrorstricken by a low cry from Thorne. The cavalryman had recovered

consciousness. He was half raised, pointing with shaking hand at the opposite ledge. His distended eyes were

Gale wheeled, rigid now, steeling himself to one last forlorn hope that Mercedes could defend herself. She

had a gun. He doubted not at all that she would use it. But, remembering her terror of this savage, he feared

Rojas reached the level of the ledge. He halted. He crouched. It was the act of a panther. Manifestly he saw

Mercedes within the cave. Then faint shots patted the air, broke in quick echo. Rojas went down as if struck a

heavy blow. He was hit. But even as Gale yelled in sheer madness the bandit leaped erect. He seemed too

quick, too supple to be badly wounded. A slight, dark figure flashed out of the cave. Mercedes! She backed

against the wall. Gale saw a puff of whiteheard a report. But the bandit lunged at her. Mercedes ran, not to

try to pass him, but straight for the precipice. Her intention was plain. But Rojas oustripped her, even as she

reached the verge. Then a piercing scream pealed across the cratera scream of despair.

Thorne echoed Mercedes's scream. Gale looked round just in time to leap and catch the cavalryman as he

staggered, apparently for the steep slope. And then, as Gale dragged him back, both fell. Gale saved his

friend, but he plunged into a choya. He drew his hands away full of the great glistening cones of thorns.

Gale, stunned for the instant, stood with uplifted hands, and gazed from Thorne across the crater. Rojas had

not killed Mercedes. He was overpowering her. His actions seemed slow, wearing, purposeful. Hers were

violent. Like a trapped shewolf, Mercedes was fighting. She tore, struggled, flung herself.

In agony now, both mental and physical, cold and sick and weak, Gale gripped his rifle and aimed at the

struggling forms on the ledge. He pulled the trigger. The bullet struck up a cloud of red dust close to the

struggling couple. Again Gale fired, hoping to hit Rojas, praying to kill Mercedes. The bullet struck high. A

thirdfourthfifth time the Remington spokein vain! The rifle fell from Gale's racked hands.

How horribly plain that fiend's intention! Gale tried to close his eyes, but could not. He prayed wildly for a

sudden blindness to faint as Thorne had fainted. But he was transfixed to the spot with eyes that pierced

Suddenly a dark form literally fell down the wall behind the ledge where Rojas fought the girl. It sank in a

"Yaqui!" screamed Gale, and he waved his bleeding hands till the blood bespattered his face. Then he

The Indian bent over Rojas and flung him against the wall. Mercedes, sinking back, lay still. When Rojas got

up the Indian stood between him and escape from the ledge. Rojas backed the other way along the narrowing

It was then that Gale caught the white gleam of a knife in Yaqui's hand. Rojas turned and ran. He rounded a

corner of wall where the footing was precarious. Yaqui followed slowly. His figure was dark and menacing.

But he was not in a hurry. When he passed off the ledge Rojas was edging farther and farther along the wall.

He was clinging now to the lava, creeping inch by inch. Perhaps he had thought to work around the buttress

or climb over it. Evidently he went as far as possible, and there he clung, an unscalable wall above, the abyss

The approach of the Yaqui was like a slow dark shadow of gloom. If it seemed so to the stricken Gale what

must it have been to Rojas? He appeared to sink against the wall. The Yaqui stole closer and closer. He was

the savage now, and for him the moment must have been glorified. Gale saw him gaze up at the great circling

walls of the crater, then down into the depths. Perhaps the red haze hanging above him, or the purple haze

below, or the deep caverns in the lava, held for Yaqui spirits of the desert, his gods to whom he called.

Perhaps he invoked shadows of his loved ones and his race, calling them in this moment of vengeance.

Then the Indian stepped close to Rojas, and bent low, keeping out of reach. How slow were his motions!

Would Yaqui nevernever end it?...A wail drifted across the crater to Gale's ears.

Rojas fell backward and plunged sheer. The bank of white choyas caught him, held him upon their steel

spikes. How long did the dazed Gale sit there watching Rojas wrestling and writhing in convulsive frenzy?

When he broke free he was a white patched object no longer human, a ball of choya burrs, and he slipped off

THE first of March saw the federal occupation of the garrison at Casita. After a short, decisive engagement

the rebels were dispersed into small bands and driven eastward along the boundary line toward Nogales.

It was the destiny of Forlorn River, however, never to return to the slow, sleepy tenor of its former existence.

Belding's predictions came true. That straggling line of homeseekers was but a forerunner of the real

invasion of Altar Valley. Refugees from Mexico and from Casita spread the word that water and wood and

grass and land were to be had at Forlorn River; and as if by magic the white tents and red adobe houses

Belding was happier than he had been for a long time. He believed that evil days for Forlorn River, along

with the apathy and lack of enterprise, were in the past. He hired a couple of trustworthy Mexicans to ride the

boundary line, and he settled down to think of ranching and irrigation and mining projects. Every morning he

expected to receive some word form Sonoyta or Yuma, telling him that Yaqui had guided his party safely

Belding was simpleminded, a man more inclined to action than reflection. When the complexities of life

hemmed him in, he groped his way out, never quite understanding. His wife had always been a mystery to

him. Nell was sunshine most of the time, but, like the sundominated desert, she was subject to strange

changes, wilful, stormy, sudden. It was enough for Belding now to find his wife in a lighter, happier mood,

and to see Nell dreamily turning a ring round and round the third finger of her left hand and watching the

west. Every day both mother and daughter appeared farther removed from the past darkly threatening days.

Belding was hearty in his affections, but undemonstrative. If there was any sentiment in his makeup it had

an outlet in his memory of Blanco Diablo and a longing to see him. Often Belding stopped his work to gaze

out over the desert toward the west. When he thought of his rangers and Thorne and Mercedes he certainly

never forgot his horse. He wondered if Diablo was running, walking, resting; if Yaqui was finding water and

In March, with the short desert winter over, the days began to grow warm. The noon hours were hot, and

seemed to give promise of the white summer blaze and blasting furnace wind soon to come. No word was

received from the rangers. But this caused Belding no concern, and it seemed to him that his women folk

Among the many changes coming to pass in Forlorn River were the installing of postoffice service and the

building of a mescal drinkinghouse. Belding had worked hard for the post office, but he did not like the idea

of a saloon for Forlorn River. Still, that was an inevitable evil. The Mexicans would have mescal. Belding

had kept the little border hamlet free of an establishment for distillation of the fiery cactus drink. A good

many Americans drifted into Forlorn Riverminers, cowboys, prospectors, outlaws, and others of

nondescript character; and these men, of course, made the saloon, which was also an inn, their headquarters.

Belding, with Carter and other old residents, saw the need of a sheriff for Forlorn River.

One morning early in this spring month, while Belding was on his way from the house to the corrals, he saw

Nell running Blanco Jose' down the road at a gait that amazed him. She did not take the turn of the road to

come in by the gate. She put Jose' at a fourfoot wire fence, and came clattering into the yard.

Blanco Jose, like the other white horses, was big of frame and heavy, and thunder rolled from under his great

hoofs. Nell pulled him up, and as he pounded and slid to a halt in a cloud of dust she swung lightly down.

"I'm not going to tell you," she replied, and started away, leading Jose toward the corral.

Belding leisurely followed. She went into the corral, removed Jose's bridle, and led him to the

wateringtrough. Belding came up, and without saying anything began to unbuckle Jose's saddle girths. But

he ventured a look at Nell. The red had gone from her face, and he was surprised to see her eyes brimming

with tears. Most assuredly this was not one of Nell's tantrums. While taking off Jose's saddle and hanging it

in the shed Belding pondered in his slow way. When he came back to the corral Nell had her face against the

bars, and she was crying. He slipped a big arm around her and waited. Although it was not often expressed,

"Dad, I don't want you to think me aa baby any more," she said. "I've been insulted."

"Not to mention it to mother, not to pack a gun down there, and never, never tell Dick."

"Well, I promise not to tell mother," he said, presently; "and seeing you're here safe and well, I guess I won't

go packing a gun down there, wherever that is. But I won't promise to keep anything from Dick that perhaps

"Dad, what would Dick do ifif he were here and I were to tell him I'dI'd been horribly insulted?"

"I guess that 'd depend. Mostly, you know, Dick does what you want. But you couldn't stop himnobody

couldif there was reason, a man's reason, to get started. Remember what he did to Rojas!...Nell, tell me

"The other day, Wednesday," she began, "I was coming home, and in front of that mescal drinkingplace

there was a crowd. It was a noisy crowd. I didn't want to walk out into the street or seem afraid. But I had to

do both. There were several young men, and if they weren't drunk they certainly were rude. I never saw them

before, but I think they must belong to the mining company that was run out of Sonora by rebels. Mrs. Carter

was telling me. Anyway, these young fellows were Americans. They stretched themselves across the walk

and smiled at me. I had to go out in the road. One of them, the rudest, followed me. He was a big fellow,

redfaced, with prominent eyes and a bold look. He came up beside me and spoke to me. I ran home. And as

"Well, today, just now, when I was riding up the valley road I came upon the same fellows. They had

instruments and were surveying. Remembering Dick, and how he always wished for an instrument to help

work out his plan for irrigation, I was certainly surprised to see these strangers surveyingand surveying

upon Laddy's plot of land. It was a sandy road there, and Jose happened to be walking. So I reined in and

asked these engineers what they were doing. The leader, who was that same bold fellow who had followed

me, seemed much pleased at being addressed. He was swaggeringtoo friendly; not my idea of a gentleman

at all. He said he was glad to tell me he was going to run water all over Altar Valley. Dad, you can bet that

made me wild. That was Dick's plan, his discovery, and here were surveyors on Laddy's claim.

"Then I told him that he was working on private land and he'd better get off. He seemed to forget his flirty

proclivities in amazement. Then he looked cunning. I read his mind. It was news to him that all the land

"He said something about not seeing any squatters on the land, and then he shut up tight on that score. But he

began to be flirty again. He got hold of Jose's bridle, and before I could catch my breath he said I was a

peach, and that he wanted to make a date with me, that his name was Chase, that he owned a gold mine in

Mexico. He said a lot more I didn't gather, but when he called me Dearie' Iwell, I lost my temper.

"I jerked on the bridle and told him to let go. He held on and rolled his eyes at me. I dare say he imagined he

was a gentlemen to be infatuated with. He seemed sure of conquest. One thing certain, he didn't know the

least bit about horses. It scared me the way he got in front of Jose. I thanked my stars I wasn't up on Blanco

Diablo. Well, Dad, I'm a little ashamed now, but I was mad. I slashed him across the face with my quirt. Jose

jumped and knocked Mr. Chase into the sand. I didn't get the horse under control till I was out of sight of

"Nell, I guess you punished the fellow enough. Maybe he's only a conceited softy. But I don't like that sort of

thing. It isn't Western. I guess he won't be so smart next time. Any fellow would remember being hit by

"Thank goodness I wasn't! I'm sorry now, Dad. Perhaps the fellow was hurt. but what could I do? Let's forget

all about it, and I'll be careful where I ride in the future....Dad, what does it mean, this surveying around

"I don't know, Nell," replied Belding, thoughtfully. "It worries me. It looks good for Forlorn River, but bad

for Dick's plan to irrigate the valley. Lord, I'd hate to have some one forestall Dick on that!"

"Where have I been keeping myself not to know about these surveyors?" muttered Belding. "They must have

"Go see Mrs. Cater. She told me there were strangers in town, Americans, who had mining interests in

Belding discovered that he was, indeed, the last man of consequence in Forlorn River to learn of the arrival of

Ben Chase and son, mineowners and operators in Sonora. They, with a force of miners, had been besieged by

rebels and finally driven off their property. This property was not destroyed, but held for ransom. And the

Chases, pending developments, had packed outfits and struck for the border. Casita had been their objective

point, but, for some reason which Belding did not learn, they had arrived instead at Forlorn River. It had

taken Ben Chase just one day to see the possibilities of Altar Valley, and in three days he had men at work.

Belding returned home without going to see the Chases and their operations. He wanted to think over the

situation. Next morning he went out to the valley to see for himself. Mexicans were hastily erecting adobe

houses upon Ladd's one hundred and sixty acres, upon Dick Gale's, upon Jim Lash's and Thorne's. There

were men staking the valley floor and the river bed. That was sufficient for Belding. He turned back toward

In fact, the surroundings of Forlorn River, except on the river side, reminded Belding of the mushroom

growth of a newly discovered mining camp. Tents were everywhere; adobe shacks were in all stages of

construction; rough clapboard houses were going up. The latest of this work was new and surprising to

Belding, all because he was a busy man, with no chance to hear village gossip. When he was directed to the

He came to a big tent with a huge canvas fly stretched in front, under which sat several men in their shirt

Slowwitted as Belding was, and absorbed in his own feelings, he yet saw plainly that his advent was

disturbing to these men. They looked alarmed, exchanged glances, and then quickly turned to him. One of

them, a tall, rugged man with sharp face and shrewd eyes and white hair, got up and offered his hand.

"I'm Chase, senior," he said. "My son Radford Chase is here somewhere. You're Belding, the line inspector, I

"Yes, I'm the inspector," replied Belding, ignoring the proffered hand, "and I'd like to know what in the hell

"Land claims?" slowly echoed Chase, studying his man. "We're taking up only unclaimed land."

"Well, Mr. Belding, as to that, I think my men did run across some staked ground. But we recognize only

squatters. If your rangers think they've got property just because they drove a few stakes in the ground they're

much mistaken. A squatter has to build a house and live on his land so long, according to law, before he owns

"According to law!" exclaimed Belding. "Then you own up; you've jumped our claims."

"Mr. Belding, I'm a plain business man. I come along. I see a good opening. Nobody seems to have tenable

grants. I stake out claims, locate squatters, start to build. It seems to me your rangers have overlooked certain

precautions. That's unfortunate for them. I'm prepared to hold my claim and to back all the squatters who

work for me. If you don't like it you can carry the matter to Tucson. The law will uphold me."

"The law? Say, on this southwest border we haven't any law except a man's word and a gun."

"Then you'll find United States law has come along with Ben Chase," replied the other, snapping his fingers.

I thought the West hadn't bred you. I know your kind. You'd last a long time on the Texas border; now,

wouldn't you? You're one of the land and water hogs that has come to root in the West. You're like the timber

sharkstake it all and leave none for those who follow. Mr. Chase, the West would fare better and last

"I'm not so sure of that. Wait till my rangers come back. I wouldn't be in your boots. Don't mistake me. I don't

suppose you could be accused of stealing another man's ideas or plan, but sure you've stolen these four

claims. Maybe the law might uphold you. But the spirit, not the letter, counts with us bordermen."

"See here, Belding, I think you're taking the wrong view of the matter. I'm going to develop this valley. You'd

do better to get in with me. I've a proposition to make you about that strip of land of yours facing the river."

Belding abruptly left the camp and went home. Nell met him, probably intended to question him, but one

look into his face confirmed her fears. She silently turned away. Belding realized he was powerless to stop

Chase, and he was sick with disappointment for the ruin of Dick's hopes and his own.

TIME passed. The population of Forlorn River grew apace. Belding, who had once been the head of the

community, found himself a person of little consequence. Even had he desired it he would not have had any

voice in the selection of postmaster, sheriff, and a few other officials. The Chases divided their labors

between Forlorn River and their Mexican gold mine, which had been restored to them. The desert trips

between these two places were taken in automobiles. A month's time made the motor cars almost as familiar

Belding was not so busy as he had been formerly. As he lost ambition he began to find less work to do. His

wrath at the usurping Chases increased as he slowly realized his powerlessness to cope with such men. They

were promoters, men of big interests and wide influence in the Southwest. The more they did for Forlorn

River the less reason there seemed to be for his own grievance. He had to admit that it was personal; that he

and Gale and the rangers would never have been able to develop the resources of the valley as these men

All day long he heard the heavy booming blasts and the rumble of avalanches up in the gorge. Chase's men

were dynamiting the cliffs in the narrow box canyon. They were making the dam just as Gale had planned to

make it. When this work of blasting was over Belding experienced a relief. He would not now be continually

reminded of his and Gale's loss. Resignation finally came to him. But he could not reconcile himself to

Moreover, Belding had other worry and strain. April arrived with no news of the rangers. From Casita came

vague reports of raiders in the Sonoyta countryreports impossible to verify until his Mexican rangers

returned. When these men rode in, one of them, Gonzales, an intelligent and reliable halfbreed, said he had

met prospectors at the oasis. They had just come in on the Camino del Diablo, reported a terrible trip of heat

"That settles it," declared Belding. "Yaqui never went to Sonoyta. He's circled round to the Devil's Road, and

the rangers, Mercedes, Thorne, the horsestheyI'm afraid they have been lost in the desert. It's an old

Mrs. Belding listened to him, and was silent for a long time while she held the stricken Nell to her breast.

Then she opposed his convictions with that quiet strength so characteristic of her arguments.

"Well, then," decided Belding, "Rojas headed the rangers at Papago Well or the Tanks."

"Tom, when you are down in the mouth you use poor judgment," she went on. "You know only by a miracle

could Rojas or anybody have headed those white horses. Where's your old stubborn confidence? Yaqui was

up on Diablo. Dick was up on Sol. And there were the other horses. They could not have been headed or

"All right, mother, it's sure good to hear you," said Belding. She always cheered him, and now he grasped at

straws. "I'm not myself these days, don't mistake that. Tell us what you think. You always say you feel things

"I can say little more than what you said yourself the night Mercedes was taken away. You told Laddy to

trust Yaqui, that he was a godsend. He might go south into some wild Sonora valley. He might lead Rojas

"But mother, they're gone seven weeks. Seven weeks! At the most I gave them six weeks. Seven weeks in the

Belding could not reply to that, but hope revived in him. He had faith in his wife, though he could not in the

"Years ago when I was searching for my father I learned many things about this country," said Mrs. Belding.

"You can never tell how long a man may live in the desert. The fiercest, most terrible and inaccessible places

often have their hidden oasis. In his later years my father became a prospector. That was strange to me, for he

never cared for gold or money. I learned that he was often gone in the desert for weeks, once for months.

Then the time came when he never came back. That was years before I reached the southwest border and

heard of him. Even then I did not for long give up hope of his coming back, I know nowsomething tells

meindeed, it seems his spirit tells mehe was lost. But I don't have that feeling for Yaqui and his party.

Yaqui has given Rojas the slip or has ambushed him in some trap. Probably that took time and a long journey

into Sonora. The Indian is too wise to start back now over dry trails. He'll curb the rangers; he'll wait. I seem

to know this, dear Nell, so be brave, patient. Dick Gale will come back to you."

That talk with the strong mother worked a change in Nell and Belding. Nell, who had done little but brood

and watch the west and take violent rides, seemed to settle into a waiting patience that was sad, yet serene.

She helped her mother more than ever; she was a comfort to Belding; she began to take active interest in the

affairs of the growing village. Belding, who had been breaking under the strain of worry, recovered himself

so that to outward appearance he was his old self. He alone knew, however, that his humor was forced, and

Belding argued with himself that if Ben Chase and his son, Radford, had turned out to be big men in other

ways than in the power to carry on great enterprises he might have become reconciled to them. But the father

was greedy, grasping, hard, cold; the son added to those traits an overbearing disposition to rule, and he

showed a fondness for drink and cards. These men were developing the valley, to be sure, and a horde of poor

Mexicans and many Americans were benefiting from that development; nevertheless, these Chases were

Belding shook off a lethargic spell and decided he had better set about several by no means small tasks, if he

wanted to get them finished before the hot months. He made a trip to the Sonoyta Oasis. He satisfied himself

that matters along the line were favorable, and that there was absolutely no trace of his rangers. Upon

completing this trip he went to Casita with a number of his white thoroughbreds and shipped them to ranchers

and horsebreeders in Texas. Then, being near the railroad, and having time, he went up to Tucson. There he

learned some interesting particulars about the Chases. They had an office in the city; influential friends in the

Capitol. They were powerful men in the rapidly growing finance of the West. They had interested the

Southern Pacific Railroad, and in the near future a branch line was to be constructed from San Felipe to

Forlorn River. These details of the Chase development were insignificant when compared to a matter striking

close home to Belding. His responsibility had been subtly attacked. A doubt had been cast upon his capability

of executing the duties of immigration inspector to the best advantage of the state. Belding divined that this

was only an entering wedge. The Chases were bent upon driving him out of Forlorn River; but perhaps to

serve better their own ends, they were proceeding at leisure. Belding returned home consumed by rage. But

he controlled it. For the first time in his life he was afraid of himself. He had his wife and Nell to think of;

"Dad, there's another Rojas round these diggings," was Nell's remark, after the greetings were over and the

Belding's exclamation was cut short by Nell's laugh. She was serious with a kind of amused contempt.

"Humph! Say, my girl, that name Chase makes me see red. If you must tease me hit on some other way. Sabe,

"You promised me once, Dad, that you'd not go packing a gun off down there, didn't you?"

"Will you promise again?" she asked, lightly. Here was Nell with arch eyes, yet not the old arch eyes, so full

"Well, if you weren't such a good old blind Dad you'd have seen long ago the way Mr. Radford Chase ran

round after me. At first it was only annoying, and I did not want to add to your worries. But these two weeks

you've been gone I've been more than annoyed. After that time I struck Mr. Chase with my quirt he made all

possible efforts to meet me. He did meet me wherever I went. He sent me letters till I got tired of sending

"When you left home on your trips I don't know that he grew bolder, but he had more opportunity. I couldn't

stay in the house all the time. There were mama's errands and sick people and my Sunday school, and what

not. Mr. Chase waylaid me every time I went out. If he works any more I don't know when, unless it's when

I'm asleep. He followed me until it was less embarassing for me to let him walk with me and talk his head off.

He made love to me. He begged me to marry him. I told him I was already in love and engaged to be married.

Next time he saw me he said he must explain. He meant I was being true to a man who, everybody on the

border knew, had been lost in the desert. Thatthat hurt. Maybemaybe it's true. Sometimes it seems

terribly true. Since then, of course, I have stayed in the house to avoid being hurt again.

"But, Dad, a little thing like a girl sticking close to her mother and room doesn't stop Mr. Chase. I think he's

crazy. Anyway, he's a most persistent fool. I want to be charitable, because the man swears he loves me, and

maybe he does, but he is making me nervous. I don't sleep. I'm afraid to be in my room at night. I've gone to

mother's room. He's always hanging round. Bold! Why, that isn't the thing to call Mr. Chase. He's absolutely

without a sense of decency. He bribes our servants. He comes into our patio. Think of that! He makes the

most ridiculous excuses. He bothers mother to death. I feel like a poor little rabbit holed by a hound. And I

Somehow the thing struck Belding as funny, and he laughed. He had not had a laugh for so long that it made

him feel good. He stopped only at sight of Nell's surprise and pain. Then he put his arms round her.

"Never mind, dear. I'm an old bear. But it tickled me, I guess. I sure hope Mr. Radford Chase has got it

bad...Nell, it's only the old story. The fellows fall in love with you. It's your good looks, Nell. What a price

women like you and Mercedes have to pay for beauty! I'd a d a good deal rather be ugly as a mud fence."

"He wouldn't, you can gamble on that, as Laddy says. ...Well, the first time I catch this locoed Romeo

"Confound it, Nell, I promised not to pack a gun. That's all. I'll only shoo this fellow off the place, gently,

"Oh, Dad!" cried Nell; and she clung to him wistful, frightened, yet something more.

"Don't mistake me, Nell. You have your own way, generally. You pull the wool over mother's eyes, and you

wind me round your little finger. But you can't do either with Dick Gale. You're tenderhearted; you

overlook the doings of this hound, Chase. But when Dick comes back, you just make up your mind to a little

hell in the Chase camp. Oh, he'll find it out. And I sure want to be round when Dick hands Mr. Radford the

Belding kept a sharp lookout for young Chase, and then, a few days later, learned that both son and father had

gone off upon one of their frequent trips to Casa Grandes, near where their mines were situated.

April grew apace, and soon gave way to May. One morning Belding was called from some garden work by

the whirring of an automobile and a "Holloa!" He went forward to the front yard and there saw a car he

thought resembled one he had seen in Casita. It contained a familiarlooking driver, but the three figures in

gray coats and veils were strange to him. By the time he had gotten to the road he decided two were women

and the other a man. At the moment their faces were emerging from dusty veils. Belding saw an elderly,

sallowfaced, rather frailappearing man who was an entire stranger to him; a handsome darkeyed woman

whose hair showed white through her veil; and a superbly built girl, whose face made Belding at once think

"Is this Mr. Tom Belding, inspector of immigration?" inquired the gentleman, courteously.

"I'm Belding, and I know who you are," replied Belding in hearty amaze, as he stretched forth his big hand.

"You're Dick Gale's Dadthe Governor, Dick used to say. I'm sure glad to meet you."

"Thank you. Yes, I'm Dick's governor, and here, Mr. BeldingDick's mother and his sister Elsie."

Beaming his pleasure, Belding shook hands with the ladies, who showed their agitation clearly.

"Mr. Belding, I've come west to look up my lost son," said Mr. Gale. "His sister's letters were unanswered.

"Well, now, sure I'm awful sorry," began Belding, his slow mind at work. "Dick's away just nowbeen

away for a considerable spell. I'm expecting him back any day....Won't you come in? You're all dusty and hot

and tired. Come in, and let mother and Nell make you comfortable. Of course you'll stay. We've a big house.

You must stay till Dick comes back. Maybe that 'll be Aw, I guess it won't be long....Let me handle the

Eager, excited, delighted, Belding went on talking as he ushered the Gales into the sittingroom, presenting

them in his hearty way to the astounded Mrs. Belding and Nell. For the space of a few moments his wife and

daughter were bewildered. Belding did not recollect any other occasion when a few callers had thrown them

off their balance. But of course this was different. He was a little flustered himselfa circumstance that

dawned upon him with surprise. When the Gales had been shown to rooms, Mrs. Belding gained the poise

momentarily lost; but Nell came rushing back, wilder than a deer, in a state of excitement strange even for

Belding observed the omission of the father in Nell's exclamation of mingled delight and alarm.

"His mother!" went on Nell. "Oh, I knew it! I always guessed it! Dick's people are proud, rich; they're

somebody. I thought I'd faint when she looked at me. She was just curiouscurious, but so cold and proud.

She was wondering about me. I'm wearing his ring. It was his mother's, he said. I won'tI can't take it off.

And I'm scared....But the sisteroh, she's lovely and sweet proud, too. I felt warm all over when she

looked at me. II wanted to kiss her. She looks like Dick when he first came to us. But he's changed. They'll

hardly recognize him....To think they've come! And I had to be looking a fright, when of all times on earth I'd

Nell, out of breath, ran away evidently to make herself presentable, according to her idea of the exigency of

the case. Belding caught a glimpse of his wife's face as she went out, and it wore a sad, strange, anxious

expression. Then Belding sat alone, pondering the contracting emotions of his wife and daughter. It was

beyond his understanding. Women were creatures of feeling. Belding saw reason to be delighted to entertain

Presently the Gales came back into the sittingroom, looking very different without the long gray cloaks and

veils. Belding saw distinction and elegance. Mr. Gale seemed a grave, troubled, kindly person, ill in body and

mind. Belding received the same impression of power that Ben Chase had given him, only here it was minus

any harshness or hard quality. He gathered that Mr. Gale was a man of authority. Mrs. Gale rather frightened

Belding, but he could not have told why. The girl was just like Dick as he used to be.

Their manner of speaking also reminded Belding of Dick. They talked of the ride from Ash Fork down to the

border, of the ugly and tornup Casita, of the heat and dust and cactus along the trail. Presently Nell came in,

now cool and sweet in white, with a red rose at her breast. Belding had never been so proud of her. He saw

that she meant to appear well in the eyes of Dick's people, and began to have a faint perception of what the

ordeal was for her. Belding imagined the sooner the Gales were told that Dick was to marry Nell the better

for all concerned, and especially for Nell. In the general conversation that ensued he sought for an opening in

which to tell this important news, but he was kept so busy answering questions about his position on the

border, the kind of place Forlorn River was, the reason for so many tents, etc., that he was unable to find

"It's very interesting, very interesting," said Mr. Gale. "At another time I want to learn all you'll tell me about

the West. It's new to me. I'm surprised, amazed, sir, I may say....But, Mr. Belding, what I want to know most

is about my son. I'm broken in health. I've worried myself ill over him. I don't mind telling you, sir, that we

quarreled. I laughed at his threats. He went away. And I've come to see that I didn't know Richard. I was

wrong to upbraid him. For a year we've known nothing of his doings, and now for almost six months we've

not heard from him at all. Frankly, Mr. Belding, I weakened first, and I've come to hunt him up. My fear is

that I didn't start soon enough. The boy will have a great position some dayGod knows, perhaps soon! I

should not have allowed him to run over this wild country for so long. But I hoped, though I hardly believed,

Belding was not so thickwitted where men were concerned. He saw how the matter lay between Dick Gale

"Well, Mr. Gale, sure most young bucks from the East go to the bad out here," he said, bluntly.

"Then it's bumming around, regular tramps, and to the bad generally." Belding spread wide his big arms, and

when one of them dropped round Nell, who sat beside him, she squeezed his hand tight. "Sure, it's the regular

He rather felt a little glee at Mr. Gale's distress, and Mrs. Gale's crushed Itoldyouso woe in no wise

bothered him; but the look in the big, dark eyes of Dick's sister was too much for Belding.

He choked off his characteristic oath when excited and blurted out, "Say, but Dick Gale never went to the

Belding had scarcely started Dick Gale's story when he perceived that never in his life had he such an

absorbed and breathless audience. Presently they were awed, and at the conclusion of that story they sat

whitefaced, still, amazed beyond speech. Dick Gale's advent in Casita, his rescue of Mercedes, his life as a

border ranger certainly lost no picturesque or daring or even noble detail in Belding's telling. He kept back

"Oh, father!" she cried; and there was a glorious light in her eyes. "Deep down in my heart I knew Dick was a

Mr. Gale rose unsteadily from his chair. His frailty was now painfully manifest.

"Mr. Belding, do you mean my sonRichard Galehas done all that you told us?" he asked, incredulously.

"Martha, do you hear?" Mr. Gale turned to question his wife. She could not answer. Her face had not yet

"He faced that bandit and his gang alonehe fought them?" demanded Mr. Gale, his voice stronger.

"He rescued a Spanish girl, went into the desert without food, weapons, anything but his hands? Richard

"He's a ranger nowriding, fighting, sleeping on the sand, preparing his own food?"

"He cares for his horse, with his own hands?" This query seemed to be the climax of Mr. Gale's strange

hunger for truth. He had raised his head a little higher, and his eye was brighter.

"Does Dick Gale care for his horse? Say, there are not many men as well loved as that white horse of Dick's.

Blanco Sol he is, Mr. Gale. That's Mex for White Sun. Wait till you see Blanco Sol! Bar one, the whitest,

"So he loves a horse! I shall not know my own son....Mr. Belding, you say Richard works for you. May I ask,

"Forty dollars a month for a young man who spent five hundred in the same time when he was at college, and

Mr. Gale laughed for the first time, and it was the laugh of a man who wanted to believe what he heard yet

"What does he do with so much moneymoney earned by peril, toil, sweat, and blood? Forty dollars a

Evidently this was too much for Dick Gale's father, and he gazed at his wife in sheer speechless

"Sure he saves it. Dick's engaged to marry Nell here. My stepdaughter, Nell Burton."

How strange it was to see Dick's mother and sister rise, also, and turn to Nell with dark, proud, searching

eyes. Belding vaguely realized some blunder he had made. Nell's white, appealing face gave him a pang.

What had he done? Surely this family of Dick's ought to know his relation to Nell. There was a silence that

Nell's tremulous lips framed an affirmative, but never uttered it. She held out her hand, showing the ring Dick

had given her. Miss Gale's recognition was instant, and her response was warm, sweet, gracious.

"Miss Burton, we are learning wonderful things about Richard," added Mr. Gale, in an earnest though shaken

voice. "If you have had to do with making a man of himand now I begin to see, to believe somay God

bless you!...My dear girl, I have not really looked at you. Richard's fiancee!...Mother, we have not found him

yet, but I think we've found his secret. We believed him a lost son. But here is his sweetheart!"

It was only then that the pride and hauteur of Mrs. Gale's face broke into an expression of mingled pain and

joy. She opened her arms. Nell, uttering a strange little stifled cry, flew into them.

Belding suddenly discovered an unaccountable blur in his sight. He could not see perfectly, and that was

why, when Mrs. Belding entered the sittingroom, he was not certain that her face was as sad and white as it

FAR away from Forlorn River Dick Gale sat stunned, gazing down into the purple depths where Rojas had

plunged to his death. The Yaqui stood motionless upon the steep red wall of lava from which he had cut the

bandit's hold. Mercedes lay quietly where she had fallen. From across the depths there came to Gale's ear the

Then silence, hollow, breathless, stony silence enveloped the great abyss and its upheaved lava walls. The

Action on the part of the Yaqui loosened the spell which held Gale as motionless as his surroundings. The

Indian was edging back toward the ledge. He did not move with his former lithe and sure freedom. He

crawled, slipped, dragged himself, rested often, and went on again. He had been wounded. When at last he

reached the ledge where Mercedes lay Gale jumped to his feet, strong and thrilling, spurred to meet the

Swiftly he turned to where Thorne lay. The cavalryman was just returning to consciousness. Gale ran for a

canteen, bathed his face, made him drink. The look in Thorne's eyes was hard to bear.

"Thorne! Thorne! it's all right, it's all right!" cried Gale, in piercing tones. "Mercedes is safe! Yaqui saved

her! Rojas is done for! Yaqui jumped down the wall and drove the bandit off the ledge. Cut him loose from

For Thorne these were marvelous strengthgiving words. The dark horror left his eyes, and they began to

dilate, to shine. He stood up, dizzily but unaided, and he gazed across the crater. Yaqui had reached the side

of Mercedes, was bending over her. She stirred. Yaqui lifted her to her feet. She appeared weak, unable to

stand alone. But she faced across the crater and waved her hand. She was unharmed. Thorne lifted both arms

above head, and from his lips issued a cry. It was neither call nor holloa nor welcome nor answer. Like the

Yaqui's, it could scarcely be named. But it was deep, husky, prolonged, terribly human in its intensity. It

made Gale shudder and made his heart beat like a trip hammer. Mercedes again waved a white hand. The

"Come, old man. Can you walk? Sure you can walk! Lean on me, and we'll soon get out of this. Don't look

across. Look where you step. We've not much time before dark. Oh, Thorne, I'm afraid Jim has cashed in!

Gale was keyed up to a high pitch of excitement and alertness. He seemed to be able to do many things. But

once off the ragged notched lava into the trail he had not such difficulty with Thorne, and could keep his keen

"Listen, Thorne! What's that?" asked Gale, halting as they came to a place where the trail led down through

rough breaks in the lava. The silence was broken by a strange sound, almost unbelieveable considering the

time and place. A voice was droning: "Turn the lady, turn! Turn the lady, turn! Alamon left. All swing; turn

"Hello, Jim," called Gale, dragging Thorne round the corner of lava. "Where are you? Oh, you son of a gun! I

Jim Lash stood in the trail leaning over the butt of his rifle, which evidently he was utilizing as a crutch. He

was pale but smiling. His hands were bloody. A scarf had been bound tightly round his left leg just above the

"I reckon I ain't injured much," replied Him. "But my leg hurts like hell, if you want to know."

"He's just across the crack there. I was trying to get to him. We had it hot an' heavy down here. Laddy was

pretty bad shot up before he tried to head Rojas off the trail....Dick, did you see the Yaqui go after Rojas?"

"The finish was all that saved me from runnin' loco plumb over the rim. You see I was closer'n you to where

Mercedes was hid. When Rojas an' his last Greaser started across, Laddy went after them, but I couldn't.

Laddy did for Rojas's man, then went down himself. But he got up an' fell, got up, went on, an' fell again.

Laddy kept doin' that till he dropped for good. I reckon our chances are against findin' him alive....I tell you,

boys, Rojas was hellbent. An' Mercedes was game. I saw her shoot him. But mebbe bullets couldn't stop

him then. If I didn't sweat blood when Mercedes was fightin' him on the cliff! Then the finish! Only a Yaqui

"It's a shame. Greatest stunt I ever seen! Thorne, you're standin' up pretty fair. How about you? Dick, is he

"No, he's not. A hard knock on the skull and a scalp wound, " replied Dick. "Here, Jim, let me help you over

Step by step Gale got the two injured men down the uneven declivity and then across the narrow lava bridge

over the fissure. Here he bade them rest while he went along the trail on that side to search for Laddy. Gale

found the ranger stretched out, face downward, a reddened hand clutching a gun. Gale thought he was dead.

Upon examination, however, it was found that Ladd still lived, though he had many wounds. Gale lifted him

"He's alive, but that's all," said Dick, as he laid the ranger down. "Do what you can. Stop the blood. Laddy's

Gale, like a fleet, surefooted mountain sheep, ran along the trail. When he came across the Mexican, Rojas's

last ally, Gale had evidence of the terrible execution of the .405. He did not pause. On the first part of that

descent he made faster time than had Rojas. But he exercised care along the hard, slippery, ragged slope

leading to the ledge. Presently he came upon Mercedes and the Yaqui. She ran right into Dick's arms, and

He heard the girl whisper the name of the Virgin. Then he gathered her up in his arms.

The Indian grunted. He had one hand pressed close over a bloody place in his shoulder. Gale looked keenly at

him. Yaqui was inscrutable, as of old, yet Gale somehow knew that wound meant little to him. The Indian

Without pausing, moving slowly in some places, very carefully in others, and swiftly on the smooth part of

the trail, Gale carried Mercedes up to the rim and along to the the others. Jim Lash worked awkardly over

Ladd. Thorne was trying to assist. Ladd, himself, was conscious, but he was a pallid, apparently a

deathstricken man. The greeting between Mercedes and Thorne was calmstrangely so, it seemed to Gale.

But he was calm himself. Ladd smiled at him, and evidently would have spoken had he the power. Yaqui

then joined the group, and his piercing eyes roved from one to the other, lingering longest over Ladd.

"Dick, I'm figger'n hard," said Jim, faintly. "In a minute it 'll be up to you an' Mercedes. I've about shot my

bolt....Reckon you'll do best by bringin' up blanketswatersaltfirewood. Laddy's gotone

chancein a hundred. Fix him upfirst. Use hot salt water. If my leg's brokeset it best you can. That

hole in Yaquionly 'll bother him a day. Thorne's bad hurt...Now rustleDick, oldboy."

Lash's voice died away in a husky whisper, and he quietly lay back, stretching out all but the crippled leg.

Gale examined it, assured himself the bones had not been broken, and then rose ready to go down the trail.

On the moment Yaqui appeared to have completed the binding of his wounded shoulder, and he started to

follow Gale. He paid no attention to Gale's order for him to stay back. But he was slow, and gradually Gale

forged ahead. The lingering brightness of the sunset lightened the trail, and the descent to the arroyo was

swift and easy. Some of the white horses had come in for water. Blanco Sol spied Gale and whistled and

came pounding toward him. It was twilight down in the arroyo. Yaqui appeared and began collecting a

bundle of mesquite sticks. Gale hastily put together the things he needed; and, packing them all in a tarpaulin,

Darkness was setting in. The trail was narrow, exceedingly steep, and in some places fronted on precipices.

Gale's burden was not very heavy, but its bulk made it unwieldy, and it was always overbalancing him or

knocking against the wall side of the trail. Gale found it necessary to wait for Yaqui to take the lead. The

Indian's eyes must have seen as well at night as by day. Gale toiled upward, shouldering, swinging, dragging

the big pack; and, though the ascent of the slope was not really long, it seemed endless. At last they reached a

Gale then set to work. Yaqui's part was to keep the fire blazing and the water hot, Mercedes's to help Gale in

what way she could. Gale found Ladd had many wounds, yet not one of them was directly in a vital place.

Evidently, the ranger had almost bled to death. He remained unconcious through Gale's operations.

According to Jim Lash, Ladd had one chance in a hundred, but Gale considered it one in a thousand. Having

done all that was possible for the ranger, Gale slipped blankets under and around him, and then turned his

Jim came out of his stupor. A mushrooming bullet had torn a great hole in his leg. Gale, upon examination,

could not be sure the bones had been missed, but there was no bad break. The application of hot salt water

made Jim groan. When he had been bandaged and laid beside Ladd, Gale went on to the cavalryman. Thorne

was very weak and scarcely conscious. A furrow had been plowed through his scalp down to the bone. When

it had been dressed, Mercedes collapsed. Gale laid her with the three in a row and covered them with blankets

Then Yaqui submitted to examination. A bullet had gone through the Indian's shoulder. To Gale it appeared

serious. Yaqui said it was a flea bite. But he allowed Gale to bandage it, and obeyed when he was told to lie

Gale stood guard. He seemed still calm, and wondered at what he considered a strange absence of poignant

feeling. If he had felt weariness it was now gone. He coaxed the fire with as little wood as would keep it

burning; he sat beside it; he walked to and fro close by; sometimes he stood over the five sleepers, wondering

Time had passed swiftly, but as the necessity for immediate action had gone by, the hours gradually assumed

something of their normal length. The night wore on. The air grew colder, the stars brighter, the sky bluer,

and, if such could be possible, the silence more intense. The fire burned out, and for lack of wood could not

be rekindled. Gale patrolled his short beat, becoming colder and damper as dawn approached. The darkness

grew so dense that he could not see the pale faces of the sleepers. He dreaded the gray dawn and the light.

Slowly the heavy black belt close to the lava changed to a pale gloom, then to gray, and after that morning

The hour had come for Dick Gale to face his great problem. It was natural that he hung back a little at first;

natural that when he went forward to look at the quiet sleepers he did so with a grim and stern force urging

him. Yaqui stirred, roused, yawned, got up; and, though he did not smile at Gale, a light shone swiftly across

his dark face. His shoulder drooped and appeared stiff, otherwise he was himself. Mercedes lay in deep

slumber. Thorne had a high fever, and was beginning to show signs of restlessness. Ladd seemed just barely

Gale rose from his examination with a sharp breaking of his cold mood. While there was life in Thorne and

Ladd there was hope for them. Then he faced his problem, and his decision was instant.

He awoke Mercedes. How wondering, wistful, beautiful was that first opening flash of her eyes! Then the

"Mercedescome. Are you all right? Laddy is alive Thorne's not not so bad. But we've got a job on our

She bent over Thorne and laid her hands on his hot face. Then she rosea woman such as he had imagined

"Mercedes, bring what you can carry and follow me," he said. Then, motioning for Yaqui to remain there, he

Neither pausing nor making a misstep nor conscious of great effort, Gale carried the wounded man down into

the arroyo. Mercedes kept at his heels, light, supple, lithe as a panther. He left her with Ladd and went back.

When he had started off with Thorne in his arms he felt the tax on his strength. Surely and swiftly, however,

he bore the cavalryman down the trail to lay him beside Ladd. Again he started back, and when he began to

mount the steep lava steps he was hot, wet, breathing hard. As he reached the scene of that night's camp a

"Hello, Dick. I woke some late this mornin'. Where's Laddy? Dick, you ain't agoin' to say"

"Where's Thorne an' Mercedes? Look here, man. I reckon you ain't packin' this crippled outfit down that

For once Jim Lash's cool good nature and careless indifference gave precedence to amaze and concern.

"Always knew you was a husky chap. But, Dick, you're no hoss! Get me a crutch an' give me a lift on one

He lifted the ranger, called to Yaqui to follow with some of the camp outfit, and once more essayed the steep

descent. Jim Lash was the heaviest man of the three, and Gale's strength was put to enormous strain to carry

him on that broken trail. Nevertheless, Gale went down, down, walking swiftly and surely over the bad

places; and at last he staggered into the arroyo with bursting heart and redblinded eyes. When he had

recovered he made a final trip up the slope for the camp effects which Yaqui had been unable to carry.

Then he drew Jim and Mercedes and Yaqui, also, into an earnest discussion of ways and means whereby to

fight for the life of Thorne. Ladd's case Gale now considered hopeless, though he meant to fight for him, too,

In the labor of watching and nursing it seemed to Gale that two days and two nights slipped by like a few

hours. During that time the Indian recovered from his injury, and became capable of performing all except

heavy tasks. Then Gale succumbed to weariness. After his muchneeded rest he relieved Mercedes of the

care and watch over Thorne which, up to that time, she had absolutely refused to relinquish. The cavalryman

had high fever, and Gale feared he had developed blood poisoning. He required constant attention. His

condition slowly grew worse, and there came a day which Gale thought surely was the end. But that day

passed, and the night, and the next day, and Thorne lived on, ghastly, stricken, raving. Mercedes hung over

him with jealous, passionate care and did all that could have been humanly done for a man. She grew wan,

absorbed, silent. But suddenly, and to Gale's amaze and thanksgiving, there came an abatement of Thorne's

fever. With it some of the heat and redness of the inflamed wound disappeared. Next morning he was

conscious, and Gale grasped some of the hope that Mercedes had never abandoned. He forced her to rest

while he attended to Thorne. That day he saw that the crisis was past. Recovery for Thorne was now possible,

Jim Lash's wound healed without any aggravating symptoms. It would be only a matter of time unti he had

the use of his leg again. All these days, however, there was little apparent change in Ladd's condition unless it

was that he seemed to fade away as he lingered. At first his wounds remained open; they bled a little all the

time outwardly, perhaps internally also; the blood did not seem to clot, and so the bullet holes did not close.

Then Yaqui asked for the care of Ladd. Gale yielded it with opposing thoughtsthat Ladd would waste

slowly away till life ceased, and that there never was any telling what might lie in the power of this strange

Indian. Yaqui absented himself from camp for a while, and when he returned he carried the roots and leaves

of desert plants unknown to Gale. From these the Indian brewed an ointment. Then he stripped the bandages

from Ladd and applied the mixture to his wounds. That done, he let him lie with the wounds exposed to the

air, at night covering him. Next day he again exposed the wounds to the warm, dry air. Slowly they closed,

Days passed and grew into what Gale imagined must have been weeks. Yaqui recovered fully. Jim Lash

began to move about on a crutch; he shared the Indian's watch over Ladd. Thorne lay haggard, emaciated

ghost of his rugged self, but with life in the eyes that turned always toward Mercedes. Ladd lingered and

lingered. The life seemingly would not leave his bulletpierced body. He faded, withered, shrunk till he was

almost a skeleton. He knew those who worked and watched over him, but he had no power of speech. His

eyes and eyelids moved; the rest of him seemed stone. All those days nothing except water was given him. It

was marvelous how tenaciously, however feebly, he clung to life. Gale imagined it was the Yaqui's spirit that

held back death. That tireless, implacable, inscrutable savage was ever at the ranger's side. His great somber

eyes burned. At length he went to Gale, and, with that strange light flitting across the hard bronzed face, he

The second day after Ladd had been given such thin nourishment as he could swallow he recovered the use of

That was a characteristic speech for the ranger, Gale thought; and indeed it made all who heard it smile while

From that time forward Ladd gained, but he gained so immeasurably slowly that only the eyes of hope could

have seen any improvement. Jim Lash threw away his crutch, and Thorne was well, if still somewhat weak,

before Ladd could lift his arm or turn his head. A kind of long, immovable gloom passed, like a shadow, from

his face. His whispers grew stronger. And the day arrived when Gale, who was perhaps the least optimistic,

threw doubt to the winds and knew the ranger would get well. For Gale that joyous moment of realization

was one in which he seemed to return to a former self long absent. He experienced an elevation of soul. He

was suddenly overwhelmed with gratefulness, humility, awe. A gloomy black terror had passed by. He

wanted to thank the faithful Mercedes, and Thorne for getting well, and the cheerful Lash, and Ladd himself,

and that strange and wonderful Yaqui, now such a splendid figure. He thought of home and Nell. The terrible

encompassing red slopes lost something of their fearsomeness, and there was a good spirit hovering near.

"Boys, come round," called Ladd, in his low voice. "An' you, Mercedes. An' call the Yaqui."

Ladd lay in the shade of the brush shelter that had been erected. His head was raised slightly on a pillow.

There seemed little of him but long lean lines, and if it had not been for his keen, thoughtful, kindly eyes, his

Nobody could answer him. The question seemed a surprise to Gale, and evidently was so to the others.

Near the wall of lava a stunted saguaro lifted its head. A few shriveled blossoms that had once been white

"I reckon according to that giant cactus it's somewheres along the end of March," said Jim Lash, soberly.

"Well, what I'm drivin' at is it's about time you all was hittin' the trail back to Forlorn River, before the

A silence ensued, in which those who heard Ladd gazed fixedly at him and then at one another. Lash uneasily

shifted the position of his lame leg, and Gale saw him moisten his lips with his tongue.

"Charlie Ladd, I ain't reckonin' you mean we're to ride off an' leave you here?"

"What else is there to do? The hot weather's close. Pretty soon most of the waterholes will be dry. You can't

travel then....I'm on my back here, an' God only knows when I could be packed out. Not for weeks, mebbe.

I'll never be any good again, even if I was to get out alive....You see, shore this sort of case comes round

sometimes in the desert. It's common enough. I've heard of several cases where men had to go an' leave a

feller behind. It's reasonable. If you're fightin' the desert you can't afford to be sentimental... Now, as I said,

I'm all in. So what's the sense of you waitin' here, when it means the old desert story? By goin' now mebbe

you'll get home. If you wait on a chance of takin' me, you'll be too late. Pretty soon this lava 'll be one roastin'

"Shore then leave me here with Yaqui an' a couple of the hosses. We can eat sheep meat. An' if the water

"Son, you ain't bullheaded like Jim. You'll see the sense of it. There's Nell awaitin' back at Forlorn River.

Think what it means to her! She's a damn fine girl, Dick, an' what right have you to break her heart for an old

wornout cowpuncher? Think how she's watchin' for you with that sweet face all sad an' troubled, an' her

The ranger turned his gaze upon Thorne, and now the keen, glistening light in his gray eyes had blurred.

"Thorne, it's different with you. Jim's a fool, an' young Gale has been punctured by choya thorns. He's got the

desert poison in his blood. But you nowyou've no call to stickyou can find that trail out. It's easy to

follow, made by so many shod hosses. Take your wife an' go....Shore you'll go, Thorne?"

Ladd then directed his appeal to Mercedes. His face was now convulsed, and his voice, though it had sunk to

a whisper, was clear, and beautiful with some rich quality that Gale had never heard in it.

"Mercedes, you're a woman. You're the woman we fought for. An' some of us are shore goin' to die for you.

Don't make it all for nothin'. Let us feel we saved the woman. Shore you can make Thorne go. He'll have to

go if you say. They'll all have to go. Think of the years of love an' happiness in store for you. A week or so

an' it 'll be too late. Can you stand for me seein' you?...Let me tell you, Mercedes, when the summer heat hits

the lava we'll all wither an' curl up like shavin's near a fire. A wind of hell will blow up this slope. Look at

them mesquites. See the twist in them. That's the torture of heat an' thirst. Do you want me or all us men

seein'you like that?...Mercedes, don't make it all for nothin'. Say you'll persuade Thorne, if not the others."

For all the effect his appeal had to move her Mercedes might have possessed a heart as hard and fixed as the

Whitefaced, with great black eyes flashing, the Spanish girl spoke the word that bound her and her

The subject was never mentioned again. Gale thought that he read a sinister purpose in Ladd's mind. To his

astonishment, Lash came to him with the same fancy. After that they made certain there never was a gun

Gradually a somber spell lifted from the ranger's mind. When he was entirely free of it he began to gather

strength daily. Then it was as if he had never known patiencehe who had shown so well how to wait. He

The sun climbed higher, whiter, hotter. At midday a wind from gulfward roared up the arroyo, and now only

palos verdes and the few saguaros were green. Every day the water in the lava hole sank an inch.

The Yaqui alone spent the waiting time in activity. He made trips up on the lava slope, and each time he

returned with guns or boots or sombreros, or something belonging to the bandits that had fallen. He never

fetched in a saddle or bridle, and from that the rangers concluded Rojas's horses had long before taken their

back trail. What speculation, what consternation those saddled horses would cause if they returned to Forlorn

As Ladd improved there was one story he had to hear every day. It was the one relating to what he had

missedthe sight of Rojas pursued and plunged to his doom. The thing had a morbid fascination for the sick

ranger. He reveled in it. He tortured Mercedes. His gentleness and consideration, heretofore so marked, were

in abeyance to some sinister, ghastly joy. But to humor him Mercedes racked her soul with the sensations she

had sufferd when Rojas hounded her out on the ledge; when she shot him; when she sprang to throw herself

over the precipice; when she fought him; when with halfblinded eyes she looked up to see the merciless

Yaqui reaching for the bandit. Ladd fed his cruel longing with Thorne's poignant recollections, with the keen,

clear, nevertobeforgotten shocks to Gale's eye and ear. Jim Lash, for one at least, never tired of telling

how he had seen and heard the tragedy, and every time in the telling it gathered some more tragic and

gruesome detail. Jim believed in satiating the ranger. Then in the twilight, when the campfire burned, Ladd

would try to get the Yaqui to tell his side of the story. But this the Indian would never do. There was only the

Those waiting days grew into weeks. Ladd gained very slowly. Nevertheless, at last he could walk about, and

soon he averred that, strapped to a horse, he could last out the trip to Forlorn River.

There was rejoicing in camp, and plans were eagerly suggested. The Yaqui happened to be absent. When he

returned the rangers told him they were now ready to undertake the journey back across lava and cactus.

"No!" replied the Indian, and his deep, sonorous voice rolled out upon the quiet of the arroyo. He spoke

briefly then. They had waited too long. The smaller waterholes back in the trail were dry. The hot summer

was upon them. There could be only death waiting down in the burning valley. Here was water and grass and

wood and shade from the sun's rays, and sheep to be killed on the peaks. The water would hold unless the

"Wait for rain," concluded Yaqui, and now as never before he spoke as one with authority. "If no rain"

WHAT Gale might have thought an appalling situation, if considered from a safe and comfortable home

away from the desert, became, now that he was shut in by the redribbed lava walls and great dry wastes, a

matter calmly accepted as inevitable. So he imagined it was accepted by the others. Not even Mercedes

uttered a regret. No word was spoken of home. If there was thought of loved one, it was locked deep in their

minds. In Mercedes there was no change in womanly quality, perhaps because all she had to love was there in

Gale had often pondered over this singular change in character. He had trained himself, in order to fight a

paralyzing something in the desert's influence, to oppose with memory and thought an insidious primitive

retrogression to what was scarcely consciousness at all, merely a savage's instinct of sight and sound. He felt

the need now of redoubled effort. For there was a sheer happiness in drifting. Not only was it easy to forget, it

was hard to remember. His idea was that a man laboring under a great wrong, a great crime, a great passion

might find the lonely desert a fitting place for either remembrance or oblivion, according to the nature of his

soul. But an ordinary, healthy, reasonably happy mortal who loved the open with its blaze of sun and sweep

of wind would have a task to keep from going backward to the natural man as he was before civilization.

By tacit agreement Ladd again became the leader of the party. Ladd was a man who would have taken all the

responsibility whether or not it was given him. In moments of hazard, of uncertainty, Lash and Gale, even

The first thing Ladd asked was to have the store of food that remained spread out upon a tarpaulin. Assuredly,

it was a slender enough supply. The ranger stood for long moments gazing down at it. He was groping among

past experiences, calling back from his years of life on range and desert that which might be valuable for the

present issue. It was impossible to read the gravity of Ladd's face, for he still looked like a dead man, but the

slow shake of his head told Gale much. There was a grain of hope, however, in the significance with which

he touched the bags of salt and said, "Shore it was sense packin' all that salt!"

"That's little grub for six starvin' people corralled in the desert. But the grub end ain't worryin' me. Yaqui can

get sheep up the slopes. Water! That's the beginnin' and middle an' end of our case."

Upon being questioned, Yaqui repeated what he had said about the dreaded ano seco of the Mexicans. In a

Gale could not find bottom with a thirty foot lasso. The water was as cool, clear, sweet as if it had been kept

"Let's see. Last year was shore pretty dry. Mebbe this summer won't be. Mebbe our wonderful good luck'll

"He says no man can tell surely. But he thinks the rain will come," she replied.

"Shore it 'll rain, you can gamble on that now," continued Ladd. "If there's only grass for the hosses! We can't

get out of here without hosses. Dick, take the Indian an' scout down the arroyo. Today I seen the hosses

were gettin' fat. Gettin' fat in this desert! But mebbe they've about grazed up all the grass. Go an' see, Dick.

Gale, upon the few occasions when he had wandered down the arroyo, had never gone far. The Yaqui said

there was grass for the horses, and until now no one had given the question more consideration. Gale found

that the arroyo widened as it opened. Near the head, where it was narrow, the grass lined the course of the dry

stream bed. But farther down this stream bed spread out. There was every indication that at flood seasons the

water covered the floor of the arroyo. The farther Gale went the thicker and larger grew the gnarled mesquites

and palo verdes, the more cactus and greasewood there were, and other desert growths. Patches of gray grass

grew everywhere. Gale began to wonder where the horses were. Finally the trees and brush thinned out, and a

milewide gray plain stretched down to reddish sand dunes. Over to one side were the white horses, and even

as Gale saw them both Blanco Diablo and Sol lifted their heads and, with white manes tossing in the wind,

whistled clarion calls. Here was grass enough for many horses; the arroyo was indeed an oasis.

Ladd and the others were awaiting Gale's report, and they received it with calmness, yet with a joy no less

evident because it was restrained. Gale, in his keen observation at the moment, found that he and his

"Senor Laddy, you thinkyou believewe shall" she faltered, and her voice failed. It was the woman in

her, weakening in the light of real hope, of the happiness now possible beyond that desert barrier.

"Mercedes, no white man can tell what'll come to pass out here," said Ladd, earnestly. "Shore I have hopes

now I never dreamed of. I was pretty near a dead man. The Indian saved me. Queer notions have come into

my head about Yaqui. I don't understand them. He seems when you look at him only a squalid, sullen,

vengeful savage. But Lord! that's far from the truth. Mebbe Yaqui's different from most Indians. He looks the

same, though. Mebbe the trouble is we white folks never knew the Indian. Anyway, Beldin' had it right.

Yaqui's our godsend. Now as to the future, I'd like to know mebbe as well as you if we're ever to get home.

Only bein' what I am, I say, Quien sabe? But somethin' tells me Yaqui knows. Ask him, Mercedes. Make him

tell. We'll all be the better for knowin'. We'd be stronger for havin' more'n our faith in him. He's silent Indian,

Mercedes called to Yaqui. At her bidding there was always a suggestion of hurry, which otherwise was never

manifest in his actions. She put a hand on his bared muscular arm and began to speak in Spanish. Her voice

was low, swift, full of deep emotion, sweet as the sound of a bell. It thrilled Gale, though he understood

scarcely a word she said. He did not need translation to know that here spoke the longing of a woman for life,

Gale doubted his own divining impression. It was that the Yaqui understood this woman's longing. In Gale's

sight the Indian's stoicism, his inscrutability, the lavalike hardness of his face, although they did not change,

seemed to give forth light, gentleness, loyalty. For an instant Gale seemed to have a vision; but it did not last,

"He says yes," she whispered. "He answers he'll save us; he'll take us all backhe knows!"

The Indian turned away to his tasks, and the silence that held the little group was finally broken by Ladd.

"Shore I said so. Now all we've got to do is use sense. Friends, I'm the commissary department of this outfit,

an' what I say goes. You all won't eat except when I tell you. Mebbe it'll not be so hard to keep our health.

Starved beggars don't get sick. But there's the heat comin', an' we can all go loco, you know. To pass the

time! Lord, that's our problem. Now if you all only had a hankerin' for checkers. Shore I'll make a board an'

make you play. Thorne, you're the luckiest. You've got your girl, an' this can be a honeymoon. Now with a

few tools an' little material see what a grand house you can build for your wife. Dick, you're lucky,too. You

like to hunt, an' up there you'll find the finest bighorn huntin' in the West. Take Yaqui and the .405. We need

the meat, but while you're gettin' it have your sport. The same chance will never come again. I wish we all

was able to go. But crippled men can't climb the lava. Shore you'll see some country from the peaks. There's

no wilder place on earth, except the poles. An' when you're older, you an' Nell, with a couple of fine boys,

think what it'll be to tell them about bein' lost in the lava, an' huntin' sheep with a Yaqui. Shore I've hit it. You

can take yours out in huntin' an' thinkin'. Now if I had a girl like Nell I'd never go crazy. That's your game,

Dick. Hunt, an' think of Nell, an' how you'll tell those fine boys about it all, an' about the old cowman you

knowed, Laddy, who'll by then be long past the divide. Rustle now, son. Get some enthusiasm. For shore

Gale climbed the lava slope, away round to the right of the arroyo, along an old trail that Yaqui said the

Papagos had made before his own people had hunted there. Part way it led through spiked, crested, upheaved

lava that would have been almost impassable even without its silver coating of choya cactus. There were

benches and ledges and ridges bare and glistening in the sun. From the crests of these Yaqui's searching

falcon gaze roved near and far for signs of sheep, and Gale used his glass on the reaches of lava that slanted

steeply upward to the corrugated peaks, and down over endless heave and roll and redwaved slopes. The

heat smoked up from the lava, and this, with the red color and the shiny choyas, gave the impression of a

Farther along the slope Yaqui halted and crawled behind projections to a point commanding a view over an

extraordinary section of country. The peaks were off to the left. In the foreground were gullies, ridges, and

canyons, arroyos, all glistening with choyas and some other and more numerous white bushes, and here and

there towered a green cactus. This region was only a splintered and more devastated part of the volcanic

slope, but it was miles in extent. Yaqui peeped over the top of a blunt block of lava and searched the

sharpbillowed wilderness. Suddenly he grasped Gale and pointed across a deep wide gully.

With the aid of his glass Gale saw five sheep. They were much larger than he had expected, dull brown in

color, and two of them were rams with great curved horns. They were looking in his direction. Remembering

what he had heard about the wonderful eyesight of these mountain animals, Gale could only conclude that

Then Yaqui's movements attracted and interested him. The Indian had brought with him a red scarf and a

mesquite branch. He tied the scarf to the stick, and propped this up in a crack of the lava. The scarf waved in

Once again he leveled the glass at the sheep. All five were motionless, standing like statues, heads pointed

across the gully. They were more than a mile distant. When Gale looked without his glass they merged into

the roughness of the lava. He was intensely interested. Did the sheep see the red scarf? It seemed incredible,

but nothing else could account for that statuesque alertness. The sheep held this rigid position for perhaps

fifteen minutes. Then the leading ram started to approach. The others followed. He took a few steps, then

"By George, they're coming!" exclaimed Gale. "They see that flag. They're hunting us. They're curious. If this

Gale found difficulty in curbing his impatience. The approach of the sheep was slow. The advances of the

leader and the intervals of watching had a singular regularity. He worked like a machine. Gale followed him

down the opposite wall, around holes, across gullies, over ridges. Then Gale shifted the glass back to find the

others. They were coming also, with exactly the same pace and pause of their leader. What steppers they

were! How surefooted! What leaps they made! It was thrilling to watch them. Gale forgot he had a rifle. The

Yaqui pressed a heavy hand down upon his shoulder. He was to keep well hidden and to be quiet. Gale

suddenly conceived the idea that the sheep might come clear across to investigate the puzzling red thing

fluttering in the breeze. Strange, indeed, would that be for the wildest creatures in the world.

The big ram led on with the same regular persistence, and in half an hour's time he was in the bottom of the

great gulf, and soon he was facing up the slope. Gale knew then that the alluring scarf had fascinated him. It

was no longer necessary now for Gale to use his glass. There was a short period when an intervening crest of

lava hid the sheep from view. After that the two rams and their smaller followers were plainly in sight for

perhaps a quarter of an hour. Then they disappeared behind another ridge. Gale kept watching sure they

would come out farther on. A tense period of waiting passed, then a suddenly electrifying pressure of Yaqui's

Very cautiously he shifted his position. There, not fifty feet distant upon a high mound of lava, stood the

leader of the sheep. His size astounded Gale. He seemed all horns. But only for a moment did the impression

of horns overbalancing body remain with Gale. The sheep was graceful, sinewy, slender, powerfully built,

and in poise magnificent. As Gale watched, spellbound, the second ram leaped lightly upon the mound, and

Then, indeed, Gale feasted his eyes with a spectacle for a hunter. It came to him suddenly that there had been

something he expected to see in this Rocky Mountain bighorn, and it was lacking. They were beautiful, as

wonderful as even Ladd's encomiums had led him to suppose. He thought perhaps it was the contrast these

soft, sleek, shortfurred, graceful animals afforded to what he imagined the barren, terrible lava mountains

The splendid leader stepped closer, his round, protruding amber eyes, which Gale could now plainly see,

intent upon that fatal red flag. Like automatons the other four crowded into his tracks. A few little slow steps,

At this instant Gale's absorbed attention was directed by Yaqui to the rifle, and so to the purpose of the climb.

A little cold shock affronted Gale's vivid pleasure. With it dawned a realization of what he had imagined was

lacking in these animals. They did not look wild! the socalled wildest of wild creatures appeared tamer than

sheep he had followed on a farm. It would be little less than murder to kill them. Gale regretted the need of

slaughter. Nevertheless, he could not resist the desire to show himself and see how tame they really were.

He reached for the .405, and as he threw a shell into the chamber the slight metallic click made the sheep

The noble ram and his band simply stared at Gale. They had never seen a man. They showed not the slightest

indication of instinctive fear. Curiosity, surprise, even friendliness, seemed to mark their attitude of attention.

Gale imagined that they were going to step still closer. He did not choose to wait to see if this were true.

His shot killed the big leader. The others bounded away with remarkable nimbleness. Gale used up the

remaining four shells to drop the second ram, and by the time he had reloaded the others were out of range.

The Yaqui's method of hunting was sure and deadly and saving of energy, but Gale never would try it again.

He chose to stalk the game. This entailed a great expenditure of strength, the eyes and lungs of a

mountaineer, and, as Gale put it to Ladd, the need of sevenleague boots. After being hunted a few times and

shot at, the sheep became exceedingly difficult to approach. Gale learned to know that their fame as the

keenesteyed of all animals was well founded. If he worked directly toward a flock, crawling over the sharp

lava, always a sentinel ram espied him before he got within range. The only method of attack that he found

successful was to locate sheep with his glass, work round to windward of them, and then, getting behind a

ridge or buttress, crawl like a lizard to a vantage point. He failed often. The stalk called forth all that was in

him of endurance, cunning, speed. As the days grew hotter he hunted in the early morning hours and a while

before the sun went down. More than one night he lay out on the lava, with the great stars close overhead and

the immense void all beneath him. This pursuit he learned to love. Upon those scarred and blasted slopes the

wild spirit that was in him had free rein. And like a shadow the faithful Yaqui tried ever to keep at his heels.

One morning the rising sun greeted him as he surmounted the higher cone of the volcano. He saw the

vastness of the east algow with a glazed rosy whiteness, like the changing hue of an ember. At this height

there was a sweeping wind, still cool. The western slopes of lava lay dark, and all that world of sand and gulf

and mountain barrier beyond was shrouded in the mystic cloud of distance. Gale had assimilated much of the

loneliness and the sense of ownership and the love of lofty heights that might well belong to the great condor

of the peak. Like this widewinged bird, he had an unparalleled range of vision. The very corners whence

Yaqui spied a flock of sheep far under the curved broken rim of the main crater. Then began the stalk. Gale

had taught the Yaqui somethingthat speed might win as well as patient cunning. Keeping out of sight, Gale

ran over the spikecrusted lava, leaving the Indian far behind. His feet were magnets, attracting supporting

holds and he passed over them too fast to fall. The wind, the keen air of the heights, the red lava, the

boundless surrounding blue, all seemed to have something to do with his wildness. Then, hiding, slipping,

creeping, crawling, he closed in upon his quarry until the long rifle grew like stone in his grip, and the

whipping "spang" ripped the silence, and the strange echo boomed deep in the crater, and rolled around, as if

Gale's exultant yell was given as much to free himself of some bursting joy of action as it was to call the

slower Yaqui. Then he liked the strange echoes. It was a maddening whirl of sound that bored deeper and

deeper along the whorled and caverned walls of the crater. It was as if these aged walls resented the violating

of their silent sanctity. Gale felt himself a man, a thing alive, something superior to all this savage, dead,

upflung world of iron, a master even of all this grandeur and sublimity because he had a soul.

He waited beside his quarry, and breathed deep, and swept the long slopes with searching eyes of habit.

When Yaqui came up they set about the hardest task of all, to pack the best of that heavy sheep down miles of

steep, ragged, choyacovered lava. But even in this Gale rejoiced. The heat was nothing, the millions of little

pits which could hold and twist a foot were nothing; the bladeedged crusts and the deep fissures and the

choked canyons and the tangled, dwarfed mesquites, all these were as nothing but obstacles to be cheerfully

When his heavy burden pulled him out of surefootedness, and he plunged into a choya, or when the strange,

deceitful, uncanny, almost invisible frosty thorns caught and pierced him, then there was call for all of

fortitude and endurance. For this cactus had a malignant power of torture. Its pain was a stinging, blinding,

burning, sickening poison in the blood. If thorns pierced his legs he felt the pain all over his body; if his

hands rose from a fall full of the barbed joints, he was helpless and quivering till Yaqui tore them out.

But this one peril, dreaded more than dizzy height of precipice or sunblindness on the glistening peak, did not

daunt Gale. His teacher was the Yaqui, and always before him was an example that made him despair of a

white man's equality. Color, race, blood, breedingwhat were these in the wilderness? Verily, Dick Gale

So in a descent of hours he toiled down the lava slope, to stalk into the arroyo like a burdened giant, wringing

wet, panting, cleareyed and darkfaced, his ragged clothes and boots white with choya thorns.

The gaunt Ladd rose from his shaded seat, and removed his pipe from smiling lips, and turned to nod at Jim,

The torrid summer heat came imperceptibly, or it could never have been borne by white men. It changed the

lives of the fugitives, making them partly nocturnal in habit. The nights had the balmly coolness of spring,

and would have been delightful for sleep, but that would have made the blazing days unendurable.

The sun rose in a vast white flame. With it came the blasting, withering wind from the gulf. A red haze, like

that of earlier sunsets, seemed to come sweeping on the wind, and it roared up the arroyo, and went bellowing

During these hot, windy hours the desertbound party slept in deep recesses in the lava; and if necessity

brought them forth they could not remain out long. the sand burned through boots, and a touch of bare hand

A short while before sundown the Yaqui went forth to build a campfire, and soon the others came out,

heatdazed, half blinded, with parching throats to allay and hunger that was never satisfied. A little action

and a cooling of the air revived them, and when night set in they were comfortable round the campfire.

As Ladd had said, one of their greatest problems was the passing of time. The nights were interminably long,

but they had to be passed in work or play or dreamanything except sleep. That was Ladd's most inflexible

command. He gave no reason. But not improbably the ranger thought that the terrific heat of the day spend in

Accordingly, at first the occupations of this little group were many and various. They worked if they had

something to do, or could invent a pretext. They told and retold stories until all were wearisome. They sang

songs. Mercedes taught Spanish. They played every game they knew. They invented others that were so

trivial children would scarcely have been interested, and these they played seriously. In a word, with

intelligence and passion, with all that was civilized and human, they fought the everinfringing loneliness,

But they had only finite minds. It was not in reason to expect a complete victory against this mighty Nature,

this bounding horizon of death and desolation and decay. Gradually they fell back upon fewer and fewer

Gale believed himself the keenest of the party, the one who thought most, and he watched the effect of the

desert upon his companions. He imagined that he saw Ladd grow old sitting round the campfire. Certain it

was that the ranger's gray hair had turned white. What had been at times hard and cold and grim about him

had strangely vanished in sweet temper and a vacantmindedness that held him longer as the days passed.

For hours, it seemed, Ladd would bend over his checkerboard and never make a move. It mattered not now

whether or not he had a partner. He was always glad of being spoken to, as if he were called back from vague

region of mind. Jim Lash, the calmest, coolest, most nonchalant, besthumored Westerner Gale had ever met,

had by slow degrees lost that cheerful character which would have been of such infinite good to his

companions, and always he sat broding, silently brooding. Jim had no ties, few memories, and the desert was

Thorne and Mercedes, however, were living, wonderful proof that spirit, mind, and heart were freefree to

soar in scorn of the colossal barrenness and silence and space of that terrible hedging prison of lava. They

were young; they loved; they were together; and the oasis was almost a paradise. Gale believe he helped

himself by watching them. Imagination had never pictured real happiness to him. Thorne and Mercedes had

forgotten the outside world. If they had been existing on the burnedout desolate moon they could hardly

have been in a harsher, grimmer, lonelier spot than this redwalled arroyo. But it might have been a statelier

Mercedes grew thinner, until she was a slender shadow of her former self. She became hard, brown as the

rangers, lithe and quick as a panther. She seemed to live on water and the airperhaps, indeed, on love. For

of the scant fare, the best of which was continually urged upon her, she partook but little. She reminded Gale

of a wild brown creature, free as the wind on the lava slopes. Yet, despite the great change, her beauty

remained undiminished. Her eyes, seeming so much larger now in her small face, were great black, starry

gulfs. She was the life of that camp. Her smiles, her rapid speech, her low laughter, her quick movements, her

playful moods with the rangers, the dark and passionate glance, which rested so often on her lover, the

whispers in the dusk as hand in hand they paced the campfire beatthese helped Gale to retain his loosening

hold on reality, to resist the lure of a strange beckoning life where a man stood free in the golden open, where

emotion was not, nor trouble, nor sickness, nor anything but the savage's rest and sleep and action and dream.

Although the Yaqui was as his shadow, Gale reached a point when he seemed to wander alone at twilight, in

the night, at dawn. Far down the arroyo, in the deepening red twilight, when the heat rolled away on

slowdying wind, Blanco Sol raised his splendid head and whistled for his master. Gale reproached himself

for neglect of the noble horse. Blanco Sol was always the same. He loved four thingshis master, a long

drink of cool water, to graze at will, and to run. Time and place, Gale thought, meant little to Sol if he could

have those four things. Gale put his arm over the great arched neck and laid his cheek against the long white

mane, and then even as he stood there forgot the horse. What was the dull, redtinged, horizonwide mantle

creeping up the slope? Through it the copper sun glowed, paled, died. Was it only twilight? Was it gloom? If

he thought about it he had a feeling that it was the herald of night and the night must be a vigil, and that made

At night he had formed a habit of climbing up the lava slope as far as the smooth trail extended, and there on

a promontory he paced to and fro, and watched the stars, and sat stonestill for hours looking down at the

vast void with its moving, changing shadows. From that promontory he gazed up at a velvetblue sky, deep

and dark, bright with millions of cold, distant, blinking stars, and he grasped a little of the meaning of

infinitude. He gazed down into the shadows, which, black as they were and impenetrable, yet have a

Then the silence! He was dumb, he was awed, he bowed his head, he trembled, he marveled at the desert

silence. It was the one thing always present. Even when the wind roared there seemed to be silence. But at

night, in this lava world of ashes and canker, he waited for this terrible strangeness of nature to come to him

with the secret. He seemed at once a little child and a strong man, and something very old. What tortured him

was the incomprehensibility that the vaster the space the greater the silence! At one moment Gale felt there

was only death here, and that was the secret; at another he heard the slow beat of a mighty heart.

He came at length to realize that the desert was a teacher. He did not realize all that he had learned, but he

was a different man. And when he decided upon that, he was not thinking of the slow, sure call to the primal

instincts of man; he was thinking that the desert, as much as he had experienced and no more, would

absolutely overturn the whole scale of a man's values, break old habits, form new ones, remake him. More of

desert experience, Gale believe, would be too much for intellect. The desert did not breed civilized man, and

that made Gale ponder over a strange thought: after all, was the civilized man inferior to the savage?

Yaqui was the answer to that. When Gale acknowledged this he always remembered his present strange

manner of thought. The past, the old order of mind, seemed as remote as this desert world was from the

haunts of civilized men. A man must know a savage as Gale knew Yaqui before he could speak

authoritatively, and then something stilled his tongue. In the first stage of Gale's observation of Yaqui he had

marked tenaciousness of life, stoicism, endurance, strength. These were the attributes of the desert. But what

of that second stage wherein the Indian had loomed up a colossal figure of strange honor, loyalty, love? Gale

There in the gloom sat the silent, impassive, inscrutable Yaqui. His dark face, his dark eyes were plain in the

light of the stars. Always he was near Gale, unobtrusive, shadowy, but there. Why? Gale absolutely could not

doubt that the Indian had heart as well as mind. Yaqui had from the very first stood between Gale and

accident, toil, peril. It was his own choosing. Gale could not change him or thwart him. He understood the

Indian's idea of obligation and sacred duty. But there was more, and that baffled Gale. In the night hours,

alone on the slope, Gale felt in Yaqui, as he felt the mighty throb of that desert pulse, a something that drew

him irresistibly to the Indian. Sometimes he looked around to find the Indian, to dispel these strange, pressing

Thus the nights passed, endlessly long, with Gale fighting for his old order of thought, fighting the

fascination of the infinite sky, and the gloomy insulating whirl of the wide shadows, fighting for belief, hope,

prayer, fighting against that terrible everrecurring idea of being lost, lost, lost in the desert, fighting harder

than any other thing the insidious, penetrating, tranquil, unfeeling self that was coming between him and his

He was losing the battle, losing his hold on tangible things, losing his power to stand up under this

He acknowledged it in a kind of despair, and the shadows of the night seemed whirling fiends. Lost! Lost!

Lost! What are you waiting for? Rain!. . . Lost! Lost! Lost in the desert! So the shadows seemed to scream in

At the moment he was alone on the promontory. The night was far spent. A ghastly moon haunted the black

volcanic spurs. The winds blew silently. Was he alone? No. he did not seem to be alone. The Yaqui was

there. Suddenly a strange, cold sensation crept over Gale. It was new. He felt a presence. Turning, he

expected to see the Indian, but instead, a slight shadow, pale, almost white, stood there, not close nor yet

distant. It seemed to brighten. Then he saw a woman who resembled a girl he had seemed to know long ago.

She was whitefaced, goldenhaired, and her lips were sweet, and her eyes were turning black. Nell! He had

forgotten her. Over him flooded a torrent of memory. There was tragic woe in this sweet face. Nell was

holding out her armsshe was crying aloud to him across the sand and the cactus and the lava. She was in

That night he climbed the lava to the topmost cone, and never slipped on a ragged crust nor touched a choya

thorn. A voice called to him. He saw Nell's eyes in the stars, in the velvet blue of sky, in the blackness of the

engulfing shadows. She was with him, a slender shape, a spirit, keeping step with him, and memory was

strong, sweet, beating, beautiful. Far down in the west, faintly golden with light of the sinking moon, he saw

a cloud that resembled her face. A cloud on the desert horizon! He gazed and gazed. Was that a spirit face

In the hot, sultry morning Yaqui appeared at camp, after long hours of absence, and he pointed with a long,

dark arm toward the west. A bank of clouds was rising above the mountain barrier.

Dick Gale, silent, grateful to the depths of his soul, stood with arm over Blanco Sol and watched the

transforming west, where clouds of wonderous size and hue piled over one another, rushing, darkening,

When they reached the zenish and swept round to blot out the blazing orb, the earth took on a dark, lowering

aspect. The red of sand and lava changed to steely gray. Vast shadows, like ripples on water, sheeted in from

the gulf with a low, strange moan. Yet the silence was like death. The desert was awaiting a strange and hated

visitationstorm! If all the endless torrid days, the endless mystic nights had seemed unreal to Gale, what,

"Oh! I felt a drop of rain on my face!" cried Mercedes; and whispering the name of a saint, she kissed her

The whitehaired Ladd, gaunt, old, bent, looked up at the maelstrom of clouds, and he said, softly, "Shore

we'll get in the hosses, an' pack light, an' hit the trail, an' make night marches!"

Then up out of the gulf of the west swept a bellowing wind and a black pall and terrible flashes of lightning

AT the ranchhouse at Forlorn River Belding stood alone in his darkened room. It was quiet there and quiet

outside; the sickening midsummer heat, like a hot heavy blanket, lay upon the house.

He took up the gun belt from his table and with slow hands buckled it around his waist. He seemed to feel

something familiar and comfortable and inspiring in the weight of the big gun against his hip. He faced the

door as if to go out, but hesitated, and then began a slow, plodding walk up and down the length of the room.

Presently he halted at the table, and with reluctant hands he unbuckled the gun belt and laid it down.

The action did not have an air of finality, and Belding knew it. He had seen border life in Texas in the early

days; he had been a sheriff when the law in the West depended on a quickness of wrist; he had seen many a

man lay down his gun for good and all. His own action was not final. Of late he had done the same thing

many times and this last time it seemed a little harder to do, a little more indicative of vacillation. There were

The Chases, those grasping and conscienceless agents of a new force in the development of the West, were

bent upon Belding's ruin, and so far as his fortunes at Forlorn River were concerned, had almost

accomplished it. One by one he lost points for which he contended with them. He carried into the Tucson

courts the matter of the staked claims, and mining claims, and water claims, and he lost all. Following that he

lost his government position as inspector of immigration; and this fact, because of what he considered its

injustice, had been a hard blow. He had been made to suffer a humiliation equally as great. It came about that

he actually had to pay the Chases for water to irrigate his alfalfa fields. The neverfailing spring upon his

These matters were unfortunate for Belding, but not by any means wholly accountable for his worry and

unhappiness and brooding hate. He believed Dick Gale and the rest of the party taken into the desert by the

Yaqui had been killed or lost. Two months before a string of Mexican horses, riderless, saddled, starved for

grass and wild for water, had come in to Forlorn River. They were a part of the horses belonging to Rojas and

his band. Their arrival complicated the mystery and strengthened convictions of the loss of both pursuers and

pursued. Belding was wont to say that he had worried himself gray over the fate of his rangers.

Belding's unhappiness could hardly be laid to material loss. He had been rich and was now poor, but change

of fortune such as that could not have made him unhappy. Something more somber and mysterious and sad

than the loss of Dick Gale and their friends had come into the lives of his wife and Nell. He dated the time of

this change back to a certain day when Mrs. Belding recognized in the elder Chase an old schoolmate and a

rejected suitor. It took time for slowthinking Belding to discover anything wrong in his household,

especially as the fact of the Gales lingering there made Mrs. Belding and Nell, for the most part, hide their

real and deeper feelings. Gradually, however, Belding had forced on him the fact of some secret cause for

grief other than Gale's loss. He was sure of it when his wife signified her desire to make a visit to her old

home back in Peoria. She did not give many reasons, but she did show him a letter that had found its way

from old friends. This letter contained news that may or may not have been authentic; but it was enough,

Belding thought, to interest his wife. An old prospector had returned to Peoria, and he had told relatives of

meeting Robert Burton at the Sonoyta Oasis fifteen years before, and that Burton had gone into the desert

never to return. To Belding this was no surprise, for he had heard that before his marriage. There appeared to

have been no doubts as to the death of his wife's first husband. The singular thing was that both Nell's father

Belding did not oppose his wife's desire to visit her old home. He thought it would be a wholesome trip for

her, and did all in his power to persuade Nell to accompany her. But Nell would not go.

It was after Mrs. Belding's departure that Belding discovered in Nell a condition of mind that amazed and

distressed him. She had suddenly become strangely wretched, so that she could not conceal it from even the

Gales, who, of all people, Belding imagined, were the ones to make Nell proud. She would tell him nothing.

But after a while, when he had thought it out, he dated this further and more deplorable change in Nell back

to a day on which he had met Nell with Radford Chase. This indefatigable wooer had not in the least

abandoned his suit. Something about the fellow made Belding grind his teeth. But Nell grew not only

solicitously, but now strangely, entreatingly earnest in her importunities to Belding not to insult or lay a hand

on Chase. This had bound Belding so far; it had made him think and watch. He had never been a man to

interfere with his women folk. They could do as they liked, and usually that pleased him. But a slow surprise

gathered and grew upon him when he saw that Nell, apparently, was accepting young Chase's attentions. At

least, she no longer hid from him. Belding could not account for this, because he was sure Nell cordially

despised the fellow. And toward the end he divined, if he did not actually know, that these Chases possessed

some strange power over Nell, and were using it. That stirred a hate in Beldinga hate he had felt at the very

first and had manfully striven against, and which now gave him over to dark brooding thoughts.

Midsummer passed, and the storms came late. But when they arrived they made up for tardiness. Belding did

not remember so terrible a storm of wind and rain as that which broke the summer's drought.

In a few days, it seemed, Altar Valley was a bright and green expanse, where dust clouds did not rise. Forlorn

River ran, a slow, heavy, turgid torrent. Belding never saw the river in flood that it did not give him joy; yet

now, desert man as he was, he suffered a regret when he thought of the great Chase reservoir full and

overflowing. The dull thunder of the spillway was not pleasant. It was the first time in his life that the sound

Belding noticed workmen once more engaged in the fields bounding his land. The Chases had extended a

main irrigation ditch down to Belding's farm, skipped the width of his ground, then had gone on down

through Altar Valley. They had exerted every influence to obtain right to connect these ditches by digging

through his land, but Belding had remained obdurate. He refused to have any dealings with them. It was

therefore with some curiosity and suspicion that he saw a gang of Mexicans once more at work upon these

At daylight next morning a tremendous blast almost threw Belding out of his bed. It cracked the adobe walls

of his house and broke windows and sent pans and crockery to the floor with a crash. Belding's idea was that

the store of dynamite kept by the Chases for blasting had blown up. Hurriedly getting into his clothes, he

went to Nell's room to reassure her; and, telling her to have a thought for their guests, he went out to see what

The villagers were pretty badly frightened. Many of the poorly constructed adobe huts had crumbled almost

into dust. A great yellow cloud, like smoke, hung over the river. This appeared to be at the upper end of

Belding's plot, and close to the river. When he reached his fence the smoke and dust were so thick he could

scarcely breathe, and for a little while he was unable to see what had happened. Presently he made out a huge

hole in the sand just abut where the irrigation ditch had stopped near his line. For some reason or other, not

clear to Belding, the Mexicans had set off an extraordinarily heavy blast at that point.

Belding pondered. He did not now for a moment consider an accidental discharge of dynamite. But why had

this blast been set off? The loose sandy soil had yielded readily to shovel; there were no rocks; as far as

construction of a ditch was concerned such a blast would have done more harm than good.

Slowly, with reluctant feet, Belding walked toward a green hollow, where in a cluster of willows lay the

neverfailing spring that his horses loved so well, and, indeed, which he loved no less. He was actually afraid

to part the drooping willows to enter the little cool, shady path that led to the spring. Then, suddenly seized

He was just in time to see the last of the water. It seemed to sink as in quicksand. The shape of the hole had

changed. The tremendous force of the blast in the adjoining field had obstructed or diverted the underground

Belding's neverfailing spring had been ruined. What had made this little plot of ground green and sweet and

fragrant was now no more. Belding's first feeling was for the pity of it. The pale Ajo lilies would bloom no

more under those willows. The willows themselves would soon wither and die. He thought how many times

in the middle of hot summer nights he had come down to the spring to drink. Never again!

Suddenly he thought of Blanco Diablo. How the great white thoroughbred had loved this spring! Belding

straightened up and looked with tearblurred eyes out over the waste of desert to the west. Never a day

passed that he had not thought of the splendid horse; but this moment, with its significant memory, was

The loss of Blanco Diablo, though admitted and mourned by Belding, had never seemed quite real until this

The pall of dust drifting over him, the din of the falling water up at the dam, diverted Belding's mind to the

Chases. All at once he was in the harsh grip of a cold certainty. The blast had been set off intentionally to ruin

his spring. What a hellish trick! No Westerner, no Indian or Mexican, no desert man could have been guilty

of such a crime. To ruin a beautiful, clear, cool, neverfailing stream of water in the desert!

It was then that Belding's worry and indecision and brooding were as if they had never existed. As he strode

swiftly back to the house, his head, which had long been bent thoughtfully and sadly, was held erect. He went

directly to his room, and with an air that was now final he buckled on his gun belt. He looked the gun over

and tried the action. He squared himself and walked a little more erect. Some longlost individuality had

"Let's see," he was saying. "I can get Carter to send the horses I've left back to Waco to my brother. I'll make

Nell take what money there is and go hunt up her mother. The Gales are ready to gotoday, if I say the

word. Nell can travel with them part way East. That's your game, Tom Belding, don't mistake me."

As he went out he encountered Mr. Gale coming up the walk. The long sojourn at Forlorn River, despite the

fact that it had been laden with a suspense which was gradually changing to a sad certainty, had been of great

benefit to Dick's father. The dry air, the heat, and the quiet had made him, if not entirely a well man, certainly

"Belding, what was that terrible roar?" asked Mr. Gale. "We were badly frightened until Miss Nell came to

"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Gale, we've had some quakes here, but none of them could hold a candle to this jar we

Then Belding explained what had caused the explosion, and why it had been set off so close to his property.

"It's an outrage, sir, an unspeakable outrage," declared Mr. Gale, hotly. "Such a thing would not be tolerated

in the East. Mr. Belding, I'm amazed at your attitude in the face of all this trickery."

"You seethere was mother and Nell," began Belding, as if apologizing. He dropped his head a little and

made marks in the sand with the toe of his boot. "Mr. Gale, I've been sort of half hitched, as Laddy used to

say. I'm planning to have a little more elbow room round this ranch. I'm going to send Nell East to her

mother. Then I'll See here, Mr. Gale, would you mind having Nell with you part way when you go home?"

"We'd all be delighted to have her go all the way and make us a visit," replied Mr. Gale.

"That's fine. And you'll be going soon? Don't take that as if I wanted to" Belding paused, for the truth was

"We would have been gone before this, but for you," said Mr. Gale. "Long ago we gave up hope ofof

Richard ever returning. And I believe, now we're sure he was lost, that we'd do well to go home at once. You

wished us to remain until the heat was brokentill the rains came to make traveling easier for us. Now I see

no need for further delay. My stay here has greatly benefited my health. I shall never forget your hospitality.

"Sure. I understand," said Belding, gruffly. "Let's go in and tell the women to pack up."

Nell was busy with the servants preparing breakfast. Belding took her into the sittingroom while Mr. Gale

"My girl, I've some news for you," began Belding. "Mr. Gale is leaving today with his family. I'm going to

send you with thempart way, anyhow. You're invited to visit them. I think that 'd be great for youhelp

"You see, Nell, I'm about done in Forlorn River," went on Belding. "That blast this morning sank my spring.

There's no water now. It was the last straw. So we'll shake the dust of Forlorn River. I'll come on a little

"Dad, you're packing your gun!" exclaimed Nell, suddenly pointing with a trembling finger. She ran to him,

and for the first time in his life Belding put her away from him. His movements had lost the old slow

"Why, so I am," replied Belding, coolly, as his hand moved down to the sheath swinging at his hip. "Nell, I'm

"That'll do from you," he replied, in a voice he had never used to her. "Get breakfast now, then pack to leave

"Leave Forlorn River!" whispered Nell, with a thin white hand stealing up to her breast. How changed the

girl was! Belding reproached himself for his hardness, but did not speak his thought aloud. Nell was fading

Nell turned away to the west window and looked out across the desert toward the dim blue peaks in the

distance. Belding watched her; likewise the Gales; and no one spoke. There ensued a long silence. Belding

felt a lump rise in his throat. Nell laid her arm against the window frame, but gradually it dropped, and she

was leaning with her face against the wood. A low sob broke from her. Elsie Gale went to her, embraced her,

"We've come to be such friends," she said. "I believe it'll be good for you to visit me in the city. Hereall

Heavy steps sounded outside on the flagstones, then the door rattled under a strong knock. Belding opened it.

"Good morning, Belding," said the elder Chase. "We were routed out early by that big blast and came up to

see what was wrong. All a blunder. The Greaser foreman was drunk yesterday, and his ignorant men made a

"Chase, I reckon that's the first of your blasts I was ever glad to hear," replied Belding, in a way that made

"So? Well, I'm glad you're glad," he went on, evidently puzzled. "I was a little worriedyou've always been

so touchywe never could get together. I hurried over, fearing maybe you might think the blastyou see,

"I see this, Mr. Ben Chase," interrupted Belding, in curt and ringing voice. "That blast was a mistake, the

"You'll have to excuse me for a while, unless you're dead set on having it out right now. Mr. Gale and his

family are leaving, and my daughter is going with them. I'd rather you'd wait a little."

"Nell going away!" exclaimed Radford Chase. He reminded Belding of an overgrown boy in disappointment.

"Mr. Belding, I certainly would prefer a conference with you right now," interposed the elder Chase, cutting

short Belding's strange speech. "There are other mattersimportant matters to discuss. They've got to be

"No, you may not," replied Belding, bluntly. "I'm sure particular who I invite into my house. But I'll go with

Belding stepped out and closed the door. "Come away from the house so the women won't hear thethe

The elder Chase was purple with rage, yet seemed to be controlling it. The younger man looked black, sullen,

impatient. He appeared not to have a thought of Belding. He was absolutely blind to the situation, as

considered from Belding's point of view. Ben Chase found his voice about the time Belding halted under the

"Sir, you've insulted memy son. How dare you? I want you to understand that you're"

always been profane, and now he certainly did not choose his language. Chase turned livid, gasped, and

seemed about to give way to fury. But something about Belding evidently exerted a powerful quieting

Belding was frankly curious. He did not think any argument or inducement offered by Chase could change

his mind on past dealings or his purpose of the present. But he believed by listening he might get some light

on what had long puzzled him. The masterly effort Chase put forth to conquer his aroused passions gave

"I want to make a last effort to propitiate you," began Chase, in his quick, smooth voice. That was a singular

change to Beldingthe dropping instantly into an easy flow of speech. "You've had losses here, and

naturally you're sore. I don't blame you. But you can't see this thing from my side of the fence. Business is

business. In business the best man wins. The law upheld those transactions of mine the honesty of which you

questioned. As to mining and water claims, you lost on this technical pointthat you had nothing to prove

you had held them for five years. Five years is the time necessary in law. A dozen men might claim the

source of Forlorn River, but if they had no house or papers to prove their squatters' rights any man could go

in and fight them for the water. ....Now I want to run that main ditch along the river, through your farm. Can't

we make a deal? I'm ready to be liberalto meet you more than halfway. I'll give you an interest in the

company. I think I've influence enough up at the Capitol to have you reinstated as inspector. A little

reasonableness on your part will put you right again in Forlorn River, with a chance of growing rich. There's

a big future here....My interest, Belding, has become personal. Radford is in love with your stepdaughter.

He wants to marry her. I'll admit now if I had foreseen this situation I wouldn't have pushed you so hard. But

we can square the thing. Now let's get together not only in business, but in a family way. If my son's

happiness depends upon having this girl, you may rest assured I'll do all I can to get her for him. I'll

"No," replied Belding. "Your money can't buy a right of way across my ranch. And Nell doesn't want your

"May I ask why?" Chases's voice was losing its suave quality, but it was even swifter than before.

"Sure. I don't mind your asking," replied Belding in slow deliberation. "I wouldn't do such a lowdown trick.

Besides, if I would, I'd want it to be a man I was persuading for. I know GreasersI know a Yaqui I'd rather

Radford Chase began to roar in inarticulate rage. Belding paid no attention to him; indeed, he never glanced

at the young man. The elder Chase checked a violent start. He plucked at the collar of his gray flannel shirt,

"My son's offer of marriage is an honormore an honor, sir, than you perhaps are aware of."

Belding made no reply. His steady gaze did not turn from the long lane that led down to the river. He waited

"Mrs. Belding's daughter has no right to the name of Burton," snapped Chase. "Did you know that?"

"Sure you can prove what you say?" queried Belding, in the same cool, unemotional tone. It struck him

strangely at the moment what little knowledge this man had of the West and of Western character.

"Prove it? Why, yes, I think so, enough to make the truth plain to any reasonable man. I come from

Peoriawas born and raised there. I went to school with Nell Warren. That was your wife's maiden name.

She was a beautiful, gay girl. All the fellows were in love with her. I knew Bob Burton well. He was a

splendid fellow, but wild. Nobody ever knew for sure, but we all supposed he was engaged to marry Nell. He

left Peoria, however, and soon after that the truth about Nell came out. She ran away. It was at least a couple

of months before Burton showed up in Peoria. He did not stay long. Then for years nothing was heard of

either of them. When word did come Nell was in Oklahoma, Burton was in Denver. There's chance, of

course, that Burton followed Nell and married her. That would account for Nell Warren taking the name of

Burton. But it isn't likely. None of us ever heard of such a thing and wouldn't have believed it if we had. The

affair seemed destined to end unfortunately. But Belding, while I'm at it, I want to say that Nell Warren was

one of the sweetest, finest, truest girls in the world. If she drifted to the Southwest and kept her past a secret

that was only natural. Certainly it should not be held against her. Why, she was only a childa

girlseventeeneighteen years old....In a moment of amazementwhen I recognized your wife as an old

schoolmateI blurted the thing out to Radford. You see now how little it matters to me when I ask your

Belding stood listening. The genuine emotion in Chase's voice was as strong as the ring of truth. Belding

knew truth when he heard it. The revelation did not surprise him. Belding did not soften, for he devined that

Chase's emotion was due to the probing of an old wound, the recalling of a past both happy and painful. Still,

human nature was so strange that perhaps kindness and sympathy might yet have a place in this Chase's heart.

Belding did not believe so, but he was willing to give Chase the benefit of the doubt.

"So you told my wife you'd respect her secretkeep her dishonor from husband and daughter?" demanded

"You made your son swear to be a man and die before he'd hint the thing to Nell?" went on Belding, and his

Ben Chase had no answer. The red left his face. His son slunk back against the fence.

"I say you never held this secret over the heads of my wife and her daughter?" thundered Belding.

He had his answer in the gray faces, in the lips that fear made mute. Like a flash Belding saw the whole truth

of Mrs. Belding's agony, the reason for her departure; he saw what had been driving Nell; and it seemed that

all the dogs of hell were loosed within his heart. He struck out blindly, instinctively in his pain, and the blow

sent Ben Chase staggering into the fence corner. Then he stretched forth a long arm and whirled Radford

"I see it all now," went on Belding, hoarsely. "You found the woman's weaknessher love for the girl. You

found the girl's weaknessher pride and fear of shame. So you drove the one and hounded the other. God,

what a base thing to do! To tell the girl was bad enough, but to threaten her with betrayal; there's no name for

Belding's voice thickened, and he paused, breathing heavily. He stepped back a few paces; and this, an

ominous action for an armed man of his kind, instead of adding to the fear of the Chases, seemed to relieve

"And now, gentlemen," continued Belding, speaking low and with difficulty, "seeing I've turned down your

The elder Chase appeared fascinated by something he either saw or felt in Belding, and his gray face grew

grayer. He put up a shaking hand. Then Radford Chase, livid and snarling, burst out: "I'll talk till I'm black in

His big arm swept down, and when he threw it up the gun glittered in his hand. Simultaneously with the latter

The whistle of a horse! It froze Belding's arm aloft. For an instant he could not move even his eyes. The

familiarity of that whistle was terrible in its power to rob him of strength. Then he heard the rapid, heavy

He turned to see a huge white horse come thundering into the yard. A wild, gaunt, terrible horse; indeed, the

loved Blanco Diablo. A bronzed, longhaired Indian bestrode him. More white horses galloped into the yard,

pounded to a halt, whistling home. Belding saw a slim shadow of a girl who seemed all great black eyes.

Under the trees flashed Blanco Sol, as dazzling white, as beautiful as if he had never been lost in the desert.

He slid to a halt, then plunged and stamped. His rider leaped, throwing the bridle. Belding saw a powerful,

Then Nell came running from the house, her golden hair flying, her hands outstretched, her face wonderful.

"Dick! Dick! Ohhh, Dick!" she cried. Her voice seemed to quiver in Belding's heart.

Belding's eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw clearly. Whose face was this now close before hima

long thin, shrunken face, haggard, tragic in its semblance of torture, almost of death? But the eyes were keen

"I shore am glad to see you all," said a wellremembered voice in a slow, cool drawl.

LADD, Lash, Thorne, Mercedes, they were all held tight in Belding's arms. Then he ran to Blanco Diablo.

For once the great horse was gentle, quiet, glad. He remembered this kindest of masters and reached for him

Dick Gale was standing bowed over Nell's slight form, almost hidden in his arms. Belding hugged them both.

He was like a boy. He saw Ben Chase and his son slip away under the trees, but the circumstances meant

"Dick! Dick!" he roared. "Is it you?...Say, who do you think's herehere, in Forlorn River?"

Gale gripped Belding with a hand as rough and hard as a file and as strong as a vise. But he did not speak a

It was then three more persons came upon the sceneElsie Gale, running swiftly, her father assisting Mrs.

"Quien sabe, my son," replied Belding; and now his voice seemed a little shaky. "Nell, come here. Give him a

Belding slipped his arm round Nell, and whispered in her ear. "This 'll be great!"

"Oh, brother! Mama saw youPapa saw you, and never knew you! But I knew you when you jumped

quickthat wayoff your horse. And now I don't know you. You wild man! You giant! You splendid

barbarian!...Mama, Papa, hurry! It is Dick! Look at him. Just look at him! Ohh, thank God!"

Belding turned away and drew Nell with him. In another second she and Mercedes were clasped in each

The Yaqui stood leaning against a tree watching the welcoming home of the lost. No one seemed to think of

him, until Belding, ever mindful of the needs of horses, put a hand on Blanco Diablo and called to Yaqui to

bring the others. They led the string of whites down to the barn, freed them of wet and dusty saddles and

packs, and turned them loose in the alfalfa, now breasthigh. Diablo found his old spirit; Blanco Sol tossed

his head and whistled his satisfaction; White Woman pranced to and fro; and presently they all settled down

to quiet grazing. How good it was for Belding to see those white shapes against the rich background of green!

His eyes glistened. It was a sight he had never expected to see again. He lingered there many moments when

At last he tore himself away from watching Blanco Diablo and returned to the house. It was only to find that

he might have spared himself the hurry. Jim and Ladd were lying on the beds that had not held them for so

many months. Their slumber seemed as deep and quiet as death. Curiously Belding gazed down upon them.

They had removed only boots and chaps. Their clothes were in tatters. Jim appeared little more than skin and

bones, a long shape, dark and hard as iron. Ladd's appearance shocked Belding. The ranger looked an old

man, blasted, shriveled, starved. Yet his gaunt face, though terrible in its records of tortures, had something

Thorne and Mercedes had disappeared. The low murmur of voices came from Mrs. Gale's room, and Belding

concluded that Dick was still with his family. No doubt he, also, would soon seek rest and sleep. Belding

went through the patio and called in at Nell's door. She was there sitting by her window. The flush of

happiness had not left her face, but she looked stunned, and a shadow of fear lay dark in her eyes. Belding

had intended to talk. He wanted some one to listen to him. The expression in Nell's eyes , however, silenced

him. He had forgotten. Nell read his thought in his face, and then she lost all her color and dropped her head.

Belding entered, stood beside her with a hand on hers. He tried desperately hard to think of the right thing to

"NellDick's back safe and sound," he said, slowly. "That's the main thing. I wish you could have seen his

eyes when he held you in his arms out there....Of course, Dick's coming knocks out your trip East and

changes plans generally. We haven't had the happiest time lately. But now it 'll be different. Dick's as true as

a Yaqui. He'll chase that Chase fellow, don't mistake me....Then mother will be home soon. She'll straighten

out thisthis mystery. And Nellhowever it turns outI know Dick Gale will feel just the same as I feel.

Belding left the patio and traced thoughtful steps back toward the corrals. He realized the need of his wife. If

she had been at home he would not have come so close to killing two men. Nell would never have fallen so

low in spirit. Whatever the real truth of the tragedy of his wife's life, it would not make the slightest

difference to him. What hurt him was the pain mother and daughter had suffered, were suffering still.

He found the Yaqui curled up in a corner of the barn in as deep a sleep as that of the rangers. Looking down

at him, Belding felt again the rush of curious thrilling eagerness to learn all that had happened since the dark

night when Yaqui had led the white horses away into the desert. Belding curbed his impatience and set to

work upon tasks he had long neglected. Presently he was interrupted by Mr. Gale, who came out, beside

himself with happiness and excitement. He flung a hundred questions at Belding and never gave him time to

answer one, even if that had been possible. Finally, when Mr. Gale lost his breath, Belding got a word in.

"See here, Mr. Gale, you know as much as I know. Dick's back. They're all backa hard lot, starved, burned,

torn to pieces, worked out to the limit I never saw in desert travelers, but they're alivealive and well, man!

Just wait. Just gamble I won't sleep or eat till I hear that story. But they've got to sleep and eat."

Belding gathered with growing amusement that besides the joy, excitement, anxiety, impatience expressed by

Mr. Gale there was something else which Belding took for pride. It pleased him. Looking back, he

remembered some of the things Dick had confessed his father thought of him. Belding's sympathy had always

been with the boy. But he had learned to like the old man, to find him kind and wise, and to think that

perhaps college and business had not brought out the best in Richard Gale. The West had done that, however,

as it had for many a wild youngster; and Belding resolved to have a little fun at the expense of Mr. Gale. So

he began by making a few remarks that appeared to rob Dick's father of both speech and breath.

"And don't mistake me," concluded Belding, "just keep out of earshot when Laddy tells us the story of that

desert trip, unless you're hankering to have your hair turn pure white and stand curled on end and freeze that

About the middle of the forenoon on the following day the rangers hobbled out of the kitchen to the porch.

"I'm a sick man, I tell you," Ladd was complaining, "an' I gotta be fed. Soup! Beef tea! That ain't so much as

wind to me. I want about a barrel of bread an' butter, an' a whole platter of mashed potatoes with gravy an'

green stuffall kinds of green stuffan' a whole big apple pie. Give me everythin' an' anythin' to eat but

meat. Shore I never, never want to taste meat again, an' sight of a piece of sheep meat would jest about finish

"Laddy, I'm lined up beside you with both guns," replied Jim, plaintively. "Hungry? Say, the smell of

breakfast in that kitchen made my mouth water so I near choked to death. I reckon we're gettin' most

"But I'm a sick man," protested Ladd, "an' I'm agoin' to fall over in a minute if somebody doesn't feed me.

"Shore I don't believe it. Any girl with a tender heart just couldn't let a man starve under her eyes...Look at

Dick, there. I'll bet he's had something to eat, mebbe potatoes an' gravy, an' pie an'"

"Shore he's had a lot of kisses then, for he hasn't hollered onct about this treatment."

"Perhaps he has," said Nell, with a blush; "and if you think thatthey would help you to be reasonable I

"Well, powerful fond as I am of you, just now kisses 'll have to run second to bread an' butter."

"Oh, Laddy, what a gallant speech!" laughed Nell. "I'm sorry, but I've Dad's orders."

"Laddy," interrupted Belding, "you've got to be broke in gradually to eating. Now you know that. You'd be

"You were never sick in your life, and if all the bullet holes I see in you couldn't kill you, why, you never will

"Can I smoke?" queried Ladd, with sudden animation. "My Gawd, I used to smoke. Shore I've forgot. Nell, if

you want to be reinstated in my gallery of angels, just find me a pipe an' tobacco."

"I've hung onto my pipe," said Jim, thoughtfully. "I reckon I had it empty in my mouth for seven years or so,

wasn't it, Laddy? A long time! I can see the red lava an' the red haze, an' the red twilight creepin' up. It was

hot an' some lonely. Then the wind, and always that awful silence! An' always Yaqui watchin' the west, an'

Laddy with his checkers, an' Mercedes burnin' up, wastin' away to nothin' but eyes! It's all thereI'll never

"Chop that kind of talk," interrupted Belding, bluntly. Tell us where Yaqui took youwhat happened to

"I reckon Laddy can tell all that best; but when it comes to Rojas's finish I'll tell what I seen, an' so'll Dick an'

"I'm a sick man, but I can talk," put in Ladd, "an' shore I don't want the whole story exaggerated none by

Ladd filled the pipe Nell brought, puffed ecstatically at it, and settled himself upon the bench for a long talk.

Nell glanced appealingly at Dick, who tried to slip away. Mercedes did go, and was followed by Thorne. Mr.

Gale brought chairs, and in subdued excitement called his wife and daughter. Belding leaned forward,

rendered all the more eager by Dick's reluctance to stay, the memory of the quick tragic change in the

expression of Mercedes's beautiful eyes, by the strange gloomy cast stealing over Ladd's face.

The ranger talked for two hourstalked till his voice weakened to a husky whisper. At the conclusion of his

story there was an impressive silence. Then Elsie Gale stood up, and with her hand on Dick's shoulder, her

eyes bright and warm as sunlight, she showed the rangers what a woman thought of them and of the Yaqui.

Nell clung to Dick, weeping silently. Mrs. Gale was overcome, and Mr. Gale, very white and quiet, helped

"The Indian! the Indian!" burst out Belding, his voice deep and rolling. "What did I tell you? Didn't I say he'd

be a godsend? Remember what I said about Yaqui and some gory Aztec knifework? So he cut Rojas loose

from that awful crater wall, foot by foot, finger by finger, slow and terrible? And Rojas didn't hang long on

the choya thorns? Thank the Lord for that!...Laddy, no story of Camino del Diablo can hold a candle to yours.

The flight and the fight were jobs for men. But living through this long hot summer and coming outthat's a

"Shore. Charlie Ladd looks up at an Indian these days. But Beldin', as for the comin' out, don't forget the

hosses. Without grand old Sol an' Diablo, who I don't hate no more, an' the other Blancos, we'd never have

Early in the afternoon of the next day Belding encountered Dick at the water barrel.

"Belding, this is river water, and muddy at that," said Dick. "Lord knows I'm not kicking. But I've dreamed

"Dry!" Gale slowly straightened. "We've had rains. The river's full. The spring ought to be overflowing.

"Dick, seeing you're interested, I may as well tell you that a big charge of nitroglycerin choked my spring."

"Nitroglycerin?" echoed Gale. Then he gave a quick start. "My mind's been on home, Nell, my family. But all

the same I felt something was wrong here with the ranch, with you, with Nell...Belding, that ditch there is

dry. The roses are dead. The little green in that grass has come with the rains. What's happened? The ranch's

Briefly, but not the less forcibly for that, Belding related his story of the operations of the Chases.

Astonishment appeared to be Gale's first feeling. "Our water gone, our claims gone, our plans forestalled!

Why, Belding, it's unbelievable. Forlorn River with promoters, business, railroad, bank, and what not!"

Suddenly he became fiery and suspicious. "These Chasesdid they do all this on the level?"

"Sure. Why, Ben Chase has a pull as strong as Diablo's on a down grade. Dick, we're jobbed, outfigured,

"Oh, I'm sorry, Belding, most of all for Laddy," said Gale, feelingly. "He's all in. He'll never ride again. He

wanted to settle down here on the farm he thought he owned, grow grass and raise horses, and take it easy.

Oh, but it's tough! Say, he doesn't know it yet. He was just telling me he'd like to go out and look the farm

over. Who's going to tell him? What's he going to do when he finds out about this deal?"

"Son, that's made me think some," replied Belding, with keen eyes fast upon the young man. "And I was kind

"I? Well, I'll call on the Chases. Look here, Belding, I'd better do some forestalling myself. If Laddy gets

started now there'll be blood spilled. He's not just right in his mind yet. He talks in his sleep sometimes about

how Yaqui finished Rojas. If it's left to himhe'll kill these men. But if I take it up"

"You're talking sense, Dick. Only here, I'm not so sure of you. And there's more to tell. Son, you've Nell to

"All right, then; listen," began Belding. With deep voice that had many a beak and tremor he told Gale how

Nell had been hounded by Radford Chase, how her mother had been driven by Ben Chasethe whole sad

"So that's the trouble! Poor little girl!" murmured Gale, brokenly. "I felt something was wrong. Nell wasn't

natural, like her old self. And when I begged her to marry me soon, while Dad was here, she couldn't talk.

"It was hard on Nell," said Belding, simply. "But it 'll be better now you're back. Dick, I know the girl. She'll

refuse to marry you and you'll have a hard job to break her down, as hard as the one you just rode in off of. I

"Belding, what 're you hinting at?" demanded Gale. "Do you dare insinuate thatthatif the thing were true

"Aw, come now, Dick; I couldn't mean that. I'm only awkward at saying things. And I'm cut pretty deep"

"For God's dake, you don't believe what Chase said?" queried Gale, in passionate haste. "It's a lie. I swear it's

a lie. I know it's a lie. And I've got to tell Nell this minute. Come on in with me. I want you, Belding. Oh,

Belding felt himself dragged by an iron arm into the sittingroom out into the patio, and across that to where

Nell sat in her door. At sight of them she gave a little cry, drooped for an instant, then raised a pale, still face,

"Dearest, I know now why you are not wearing my mother's ring," said Gale, steadily and lowvoiced.

"Dick, I am not worthy," she replied, and held out a trembling hand with the ring lying in the palm.

Swift as light Gale caught her hand and slipped the ring back upon the third finger.

"Nell! Look at me. It is your engagement ring....Listen. I don't believe thisthis thing that's been torturing

you. I know it's a lie. I am absolutely sure your mother will prove it a lie. She must have suffered

onceperhaps there was a sad errorbut the thing you fear is not true. But, hear me, dearest; even if it was

true it wouldn't make the slightest difference to me. I'd promise you on my honor I'd never think of it again.

I'd love you all the more because you'd suffered. I want you all the more to be my wifeto let me make you

She rose swiftyly with the passionate abandon of a woman stirred to her depths, and she kissed him.

"Oh, Dick, you're goodso good! You'll never knowjust what those words mean to me. They've saved

"Then, dearest, it's all right?" Dick questioned, eagerly. "You will keep your promise? You will marry me?"

The glow, the light faded out of her face, and now the blue eyes were almost black. She drooped and shook

"It's a lie," interrupted Gale, fiercely. "But even if it's truewhywhy won't you marry me? Between you

"I love you with my whole heart and soul. I'd die for you," whispered Nell, with clenching hands. "But I

"Dear, you have worried over this trouble till you're morbid. It has grown out of all proportion. I tell you that

"Dick, you give not one thought to your family. Would they receive me as your wife?"

"You're wrong, Nell. I'm glad you said that. You give me a chance to prove something. I'll go this minute and

"Dick, you will not tell heryour mother?" cried Nell, with her eyes streaming. "You will not? Oh, I can't

bear it! She's so proud! And Dick, I love her. Don't tell her! Please, please don't! She'll be going soon. She

needn't ever knowabout me. I want her always to think well of me. Dick, I beg of you. Oh, the fear of her

"Nell, I'm sorry. I hate to hurt you. But you're wrong. You can't see things clearly. This is your happiness I'm

Gale ran across the patio and disappeared. Nell sank to the doorstep, and as she met the question in Belding's

eyes she shook her head mournfully. They waited without speaking. It seemed a long while before Gale

returned. Belding thrilled at sight of him. There was more boy about him than Belding had ever seen. Dick

"I told them. I swore it was a lie, but I wanted them to decide as if it were true. I didn't have to waste a minute

on Elsie. She loves you, Nell. The Governor is crazy about you. I didn't have to waste two minutes on him.

Mother used up the time. She wanted to know all there was to tell. She is proud, yes; but, Nell, I wish you

could have seen how she took thethe story about you. Why, she never thought of me at all, until she had

cried over you. Nell, she loves you, too. They all love you. Oh, it's so good to tell you. I think mother realizes

the part you have had in thewhat shall I call it?the regeneration of Richard Gale. Doesn't that sound

fine? Darling, mother not only consents, she wants you to be my wife. Do you hear that? And listenshe had

me in a corner and, of course, being my mother, she put on the screws. She made me promise that we'd live in

the East half the year. That means Chicago, Cape May, New Yorkyou see, I'm not exactly the lost son any

more. Why, Nell, dear, you'll have to learn who Dick Gale really is. But I always want to be the ranger you

helped me become, and ride Blanco Sol, and see a little of the desert. Don't let the idea of big cities frighten

you. Well always love the open places best. Now, Nell, say you'll forget this trouble. I know it'll come all

The boyish brightness faded out of Gale's face. Here, Belding saw, was the stern reality arrayed against his

"That devil Radford Chasehe'll tell my secret," panted Nell. "He swore if you ever came back and married

"Chase threatened you, then?" asked Dick; and the forced naturalness of his voice struck Belding.

"Threatened me? He made my life a nightmare," replied Nell, in a rush of speech. "At first I wondered how

he was worrying mother sick. But she wouldn't tell me. Then when she went away he began to hint things. I

hated him all the more. But when he told meI was frightened, shamed. Still I did not weaken. He was

pretty decent when he was sober. But when he was half drunk he was the devil. He laughed at me and my

pride. I didn't dare shut the door in his face. After a while he found out that your mother loved me and that I

loved her. Then he began to threaten me. If I didn't give in to him he'd see she learned the truth. That made

me weaken. It nearly killed me. I simply could not bear the thought of Mrs. Gale kowing. But I couldn't

marry him. Besides, he got so half the time, when he was drunk, he didn't want or ask me to be his wife. I

She ended in a whisper, looking up wistfully and sadly at him. Belding was a raging fire within, cold without.

He watched Gale, and believed he could foretell that young man's future conduct. Gale gathered Nell up into

"Dear Nell, I'm sure the worst of your trouble is over," he said gently. "I will not give you up. Now, won't

you lie down, try to rest and calm yourself. Don't grieve any more. This thing isn't so bad as you make it.

"Dick, I beg of you. Please don't make trouble. The Chases have been hard enough on us. They are rich,

powerful. Dick, say you will not make matters worse. Please promise me you'll not go to him."

Then the woman in her burst through instinctive fear, and with her eyes blazing black in her white face she

Gale left the patio, and Belding followed closely at his heels. They went through the sittingroom. Outside

upon the porch sat the rangers, Mr. Gale, and Thorne. Dick went into his room without speaking.

"Shore somethin's comin' off," said Ladd, sharply; and he sat up with keen eyes narrowing.

Belding spoke a few words; and, remembering an impression he had wished to make upon Mr. Gale, he made

"Better stop that boy," he concluded, looking at Mr. Gale. "He'll do some mischief. He's wilder'n hell."

Just then Dick came out of his door. Belding eyed him keenly. The only change he could see was that Dick

"No. It is my wish that you remain. I forbid you to go," said Mr. Gale, with a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Dad, I haven't gotten over my bad habit of disobeying you. I'm sorry. Don't interfere with me now. And

Mr. Gale looked helplessly from this strangely calm and cold son to the restless Belding. Then Dick strode

"Hold on!" Ladd's voice would have stopped almost any man. "Dick, you wasn't agoin' without me?"

"Shore you was. Wait a minute, Dick. I'm a sick man, but at that nobody can pull any stunts round here

He hobbled along the porch and went into his room. Jim Lash knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and,

humming his dance tune, he followed Ladd. In a moment the rangers appeared, and both were packing guns.

Not a little of Belding's grim excitement came from observation of Mr. Gale. At sight of the rangers with

"Better stay behind," whispered Belding. "Dick's going to beat that twolegged dog, and the rangers get

"I will not stay behind," replied Mr. Gale, stoutly. "I'll see this affair through. Belding, I've guessed it.

"Well, I can't guarantee any fight on their side," returned Belding, dryly. "But maybe there'll be Greasers with

Belding stalked off to catch up with Dick, and Mr. Gale came trudging behind with Thorne.

"They've got a place down the road adjoining the inn. They call it their club. At this hour Radford will be

there sure. I don't know about the old man. But his office is now just across the way."

They passed several houses, turned a corner into the main street, and stopped at a wide, low adobe structure.

A number of saddled horses stood haltered to posts. Mexicans lolled around the wide doorway.

"There's Ben Chase now over on the corner," said Belding to Dick. "See, the tall man with the white hair, and

leather band on his hat. He sees us. He knows there's something up. He's got men with him. They'll come

They entered. The place was a hall, and needed only a bar to make it a saloon. There were two rickety pool

tables. Evidently Chase had fitted up this amusement room for his laborers as well as for the use of his

engineers and assistants, for the crowd contained both Mexicans and Americans. A large table near a window

"There! The big fellow with the red face. His eyes stick out a little. See! He's dropped his cards and his face

Belding grasped Mr. Gale and whispered hoarsely: "Don't miss anything. It 'll be great. Watch Dick and

Dick halted beside the table. His heavy boot shot up, and with a crash the table split, and glasses, cards, chips

flew everywhere. As they rattled down and the chairs of the dumfounded players began to slide Dick called

A tall, heavyshouldered fellow rose, boldly enough, even swaggeringly, and glowered at Gale.

It was over in a few moments. The tables and chairs were tumbled into a heap; one of the pool tables had

been shoved aside; a lamp lay shattered, with oil running dark upon the floor. Ladd leaned against a post with

a smoking gun in his hand. A Mexican crouched close to the wall moaning over a broken arm. In the far

corner upheld by comrades another wounded Mexican cried out in pain. These two had attempted to draw

In the center of the room lay Radford Chase, a limp, torn, hulking, bloody figure. He was not seriously

injured. But he was helpless, a miserable beaten wretch, who knew his condition and felt the eyes upon him.

Backed against the door of the hall stood Ben Chase, for once stripped of all authority and confidence and

courage. Gale confronted him, and now Gale's mien was in striking contrast to the coolness with which he

had entered the place. Though sweat dripped from his face, it was as white as chalk. Like dark flames his

eyes seemed to leap and dance and burn. His lean jaw hung down and quivered with passion. He shook a

"Your gray hairs save you this time. But keep out of my way! And when that son of yours comes to, tell him

IN the early morning Gale, seeking solitude where he could brood over his trouble, wandered alone. It was

not easy for him to elude the Yaqui, and just at the moment when he had cast himself down in a secluded

"Gome!" said Yaqui, with an impressive gesture toward the lofty lilaccolored steps of No Name

He seemed the same as usual, but a glance on Gale's part, a moment's attention, made him conscious of the

old strange force in the Yaqui. "Why does my brother want me to climb the nameless mountains with him?"

"Lluvia d'oro," replied Yaqui, and he made motions that Gale found difficult of interpretation.

"Shower of Gold," translated Gale. That was the Yaqui's name for Nell. What did he mean by using it in

connection with a climb into the mountains? Were his motions intended to convey an idea of a shower of

golden blossoms from that rare and beautiful tree, or a golden rain? Gale's listlessness vanished in a flash of

thought. The Yaqui meant gold. Gold! He meant he could retrieve the fallen fortunes of the white brother

who had saved his life that evil day at the Papago Well. Gale thrilled as he gazed piercingly into the

"Gome?" repeat the Indian, pointing with the singular directness that always made this action remarkable

Gale ran to his room, put on hobnailed boots, filled a canteen, and hurried back to the corral. Yaqui awaited

him. The Indian carried a coiled lasso and a short stout stick. Without a word he led the way down the lane,

turned up the river toward the mountains. None of Belding's household saw their departure.

What had once been only a narrow mesquitebordered trail was now a welltrodden road. A deep irrigation

ditch, full of flowing muddy water, ran parallel with the road. Gale had been curious about the operations of

the Chases, but bitterness he could not help had kept him from going out to see the work. He was not

surprised to find that the engineers who had contructed the ditches and dam had anticipated him in every

particular. The dammedup gulch made a magnificent reservoir, and Gale could not look upon the long

narrow lake without a feeling of gladness. The dreaded ano seco of the Mexicans might come again and

would come, but never to the inhabitants of Forlorn River. That stonewalled, stonefloored gulch would

never leak, and already it contained water enough to irrigate the whole Altar Valley for two dry seasons.

Yaqui led swiftly along the lake to the upper end, where the stream roared down over unscalable walls. This

point was the farthest Gale had ever penetrated into the rough foothills, and he had Belding's word for it that

But a white man was not an Indian. The former might have stolen the range and valley and mountain, even

the desert, but his possessions would ever remain mysteries. Gale had scarcely faced the great gray ponderous

wall of cliff before the old strange interest in the Yaqui seized him again. It recalled the tie that existed

between them, a tie almost as close as blood. Then he was eager and curious to see how the Indian would

Yaqui left the gulch and clambered up over a jumble of weathered slides and traced a slow course along the

base of the giant wall. He looked up and seemed to select a point for ascent. It was the last place in that

mountainside where Gale would have thought climbing possible. Before him the wall rose, leaning over him,

shutting out the light, a dark mighty mountain mass. Innumerable cracks and crevices and caves roughened

Yaqui tied one end of his lasso to the short, stout stick and, carefully disentangling the coils, he whirled the

stick round and round and threw it almost over the first rim of the shelf, perhaps thirty feet up. The stick did

not lodge. Yaqui tried again. This time it caught in a crack. He pulled hard. Then, holding to the lasso, he

walked up the steep slant, hand over hand on the rope. When he reached the shelf he motioned for Gale to

follow. Gale found that method of scaling a wall both quick and easy. Yaqui pulled up the lasso, and threw

the stick aloft into another crack. He climbed to another shelf, and Gale followed him. The third effort

brought them to a more rugged bench a hundred feet above the slides. The Yaqui worked round to the left,

and turned into a dark fissure. Gale kept close to his heels. They came out presently into lighter space, yet one

Here the ascent became toil. Gale could distance Yaqui going downhill; on the climb, however, he was hard

put to it to keep the Indian in sight. It was not a question of strength or lightness of foot. These Gale had

beyond the share of most men. It was a matter of lung power, and the Yaqui's life had been spent scaling the

desert heights. Moreover, the climbing was infinitely slow, tedious, dangerous. On the way up several times

Gale imagined he heard a dull roar of falling water. The sound seemed to be under him, over him to this side

and to that. When he was certain he could locate the direction from which it came then he heard it no more

until he had gone on. Gradually he forgot it in the physical sensations of the climb. He burned his hands and

knees. He grew hot and wet and winded. His heart thumped so that it hurt, and there were instants when his

sight was blurred. When at last he had toiled to where the Yaqui sat awaiting him upon the rim of that great

Gale lay back and rested for a while without note of anything except the blue sky. Then he sat up. He was

amazed to find that after that wonderful climb he was only a thousand feet or so above the valley. Judged by

the nature of his effort, he would have said he had climbed a mile. The village lay beneath him, with its new

adobe structures and tents and buildings in bright contrast with the older habitations. He saw the green alfalfa

fields, and Belding's white horses, looking very small and motionless. He pleased himself by imagining he

Indeed, he realized now why some one had named it Forlorn River. Even at this season when it was full of

water it had a forlorn aspect. It was doomed to fail out there on the desertdoomed never to mingle with the

waters of the Gulf. It wound away down the valley, growing wider and shallower, encroaching more and

more on the gray flats, until it disappeared on its sad journey toward Sonoyta. That vast shimmering,

sungoverned waste recognized its life only at this flood season, and was already with parched tongue and

Yaqui put a hand on Gale's knee. It was a bronzed, scarred, powerful hand, always eloquent of meaning. The

Indian was listening. His bent head, his strange dilating eyes, his rigid form, and that closepressing hand,

"What do you hear, Yaqui?" asked Gale. He laughed a little at the mood that had come over him. But the

sound of his voice did not break the spell. He did not want to speak again. He yielded to Yaqui's subtle

nameless influence. He listened himself, heard nothing but the scream of an eagle. Often he wondered if the

Whatever the Indian had listened to or for, presently he satisfied himself, and, with a grunt that might mean

anything, he rose and turned away from the rim. Gale followed, rested now and eager to go on. He saw that

the great cliff they had climbed was only a stairway up to the huge looming dark bulk of the plateau above.

Suddenly he again heard the dull roar of falling water. It seemed to have cleared itself of muffled vibrations.

Yaqui mounted a little ridge and halted. The next instant Gale stood above a bottomless cleft into which a

white stream leaped. His astounded gaze swept backward along this narrow swift stream to its end in a dark,

round, boiling pool. It was a huge spring, a bubbling well, the outcropping of an underground river coming

Flashing thoughts in Gale's mind were no swifter than the thrills that ran over him. He would stake out a

claim here and never be cheated out of it. Ditches on the benches and troughs on the steep walls would carry

water down to the valley. Ben Chase had build a great dam which would be useless if Gale chose to turn

Forlorn River from its natural course. The fountain head of that mysterious desert river belonged to him.

His eagerness, his mounting passion, was checked by Yaqui's unusual action. The Indian showed wonder,

hesitation, even reluctance. His strange eyes surveyed this boiling well as if they could not believe the sight

they saw. Gale divined instantly that Yaqui had never before seen the source of Forlorn River. If he had ever

ascended to this plateau, probably it had been to some other part, for the water was new to him. He stood

gazing aloft at peaks, at lower ramparts of the mountain, and at nearer landmarks of prominence. Yaqui

Then he strode past the swirling pool of dark water and began to ascend a little slope that led up to a shelving

cliff. Another object halted the Indian. It was a pile of stones, weathered, crumbled, fallen into ruin, but still

retaining shape enough to prove it had been built there by the hands of men. Round and round this the Yaqui

stalked, and his curiosity attested a further uncertainty. It was as if he had come upon something surprising.

"Ugh!" grunted the Indian; and, though his exclamation expressed no satisfaction, it surely put an end to

doubt. He pointed up to the roof of the sloping yellow shelf of stone. Faintly outlined there in red were the

imprints of many human hands with fingers spread wide. Gale had often seen such paintings on the walls of

the desert caverns. Manifestly these told Yaqui he had come to the spot for which he had aimed.

Then his actions became swiftand Yaqui seldom moved swiftly. The fact impressed Gale. The Indian

searched the level floor under the shelf. He gathered up handfuls of small black stones, and thrust them at

Gale. Their weight made Gale start, and then he trembled. The Indian's next move was to pick up a piece of

weathered rock and throw it against the wall. It broke. He snatched up parts, and showed the broken edges to

Gale. They contained yellow steaks, dull glints, faint tracings of green. It was gold.

Gale found his legs shaking under him; and he sat down, trying to take all the bits of stone into his lap. His

fingers were all thumbs as with knife blade he dug into the black pieces of rock. He found gold. Then he

stared down the slope, down into the valley with its river winding forlornly away into the desert. But he did

not see any of that. Here was reality as sweet, as wonderful, as saving as a dream come true. Yaqui had led

him to a ledge of gold. Gale had learned enough about mineral to know that this was a rich strike. All in a

second he was speechless with the joy of it. But his mind whirled in thought about this strange and noble

Indian, who seemed never to be able to pay a debt. Belding and the poverty that had come to him! Nell, who

had wept over the loss of a spring! Laddy, who never could ride again! Jim Lash, who swore he would

always look after his friend! Thorne and Mercedes! All these people, who had been good to him and whom

he loved, were poor. But now they would be rich. They would one and all be his partners. He had discovered

the source of Forlorn River, and was rich in water. Yaqui had made him rich in gold. Gale wanted to rush

Suddenly his eyes cleared and he saw the pile of stones. His blood turned to ice, then to fire. That was the

mark of a prospector's claim. But it was old, very old. The ledge had never been worked. the slope was wild.

There was not another single indication that a prospector had ever been there. Where, then, was he who had

first staked this claim? Gale wondered with growing hope, with the fire easing, with the cold passing.

The Yaqui uttered the low, strange, involuntary cry so rare with him, a cry somehow always associated with

The Indian was digging in the sand and dust under the shelving wall. He threw out an object that rang against

the stone. It was a belt buckle. He threw out old shrunken, withered boots. He came upon other things, and

The grave of desert prospectors! Gale had seen more than one. Ladd had told him many a story of such

Then the keeneyed Yaqui reached up to a little projecting shelf of rock and took from it a small object. He

How strangely Gale felt when he received into his hands a flat oblong box! Was it only the influence of the

Yaqui, or was there a nameless and unseen presence beside that grave? Gale could not be sure. But he knew

he had gone back to the old desert mood. He knew something hung in the balance. No accident, no luck, no

debtpaying Indian could account wholly for that moment. Gale knew he held in his hands more than gold.

The box was a tin one, and not all rusty. Gale pried open the reluctant lid. A faint old musty odor penetrated

his nostrils. Inside the box lay a packet wrapped in what once might have been oilskin. He took it out and

It was growing yellow with age. But he descried a dim tracery of words. A crabbed scrawl, written in blood,

hard to read! He held it more to the light, and slowly he deciphered its content.

"We, Robert Burton and Jonas Warren, give half of this gold claim to the man who finds it and half to Nell

Gasping, with a bursting heart, ovewhelmed by an unutterable joy of divination, Gale fumbled with the paper

It was a certificate twentyone years old, and recorded the marriage of Robert Burton and Nellie Warren.

A SUMMER day dawned on Forlorn River, a beautiful, still, hot, golden day with huge sail clouds of white

motionless over No Name Peaks and the purple of clear air in the distance along the desert horizon.

Mrs. Belding returned that day to find her daughter happy and the past buried forever in two lonely graves.

The haunting shadow left her eyes. Gale believed he would never forget the sweetness, the wonder, the

The little wrinkled padre who married Gale and Nell performed the ceremoney as he told his beads, without

"Shore I was a sick man," Ladd said, "an' darn near a dead one, but I'm agoin' to get well. Mebbe I'll be able

to ride again someday. Nell, I lay it to you. An' I'm agoin' to kiss you an' wish you all the joy there is in this

He spoke of Gale's finding lovespoke of it with the deep and wistful feeling of the lonely ranger who had

always yearned for love and had never known it. Belding, once more practical, and important as never before

with mining projects and water claims to manage, spoke of Gale's great good fortune in finding of goldhe

"Ah, yes. Desert Gold!" exclaimed Dick's father, softly, with eyes of pride. Perhaps he was glad Dick had

found the rich claim; surely he was happy that Dick had won the girl he loved. But it seemed to Dick himself

that his father meant something very different from love and fortune in his allusion to desert gold.

That beautiful happy day, like life or love itself, could not be wholly perfect.

Yaqui came to Dick to say goodby. Dick was startled, grieved, and in his impulsiveness forgot for a

Belding tried to overload him with gifts. The Indian packed a bag of food, a blanket, a gun, a knife, a canteen,

and no more. The whole household went out with him to the corrals and fields from which Belding bade him

choose a horseany horse, even the loved Blanco Diablo. Gale's heart was in his throat for fear the Indian

might choose Blanco Sol, and Gale hated himself for a selfishness he could not help. But without a word he

Yaqui whistled the horses upfor the last time. Did he care for them? It would have been hard to say. He

never looked at the fierce and haughty Diablo, nor at Blanco Sol as he raised his noble head and rang his

piercing blast. The Indian did not choose one of Belding's whites. He caught a lean and wiry broncho,

Then he turned to these friends, the same emotionless, inscrutable dark and silent Indian that he had always

been. This parting was nothing to him. He had stayed to pay a debt, and now he was going home.

He shook hands with the men, swept a dark fleeting glance over Nell, and rested his strange eyes upon

Mercedes's beautiful and agitated face. It must have been a moment of intense feeling for the Spanish girl.

She owed it to him that she had life and love and happiness. She held out those speaking slender hands. But

Yaqui did not touch them. Turning away, he mounted the broncho and rode down the trail toward the river.

"Home!" whispered Ladd; and Dick knew the ranger felt the resurging tide of memory. Homeacross the

cactus and lava, through solemn lonely days, the silent, lonely nights, into the vast and redhazed world of

"Thorne, Mercedes, Nell, let's climb the foothill yonder and watch him out of sight," said Dick.

They climbed while the others returned to the house. When they reached the summit of the hill Yaqui was

From that height they watched him ride through the mesquites, up over the river bank to enter the cactus. His

mount showed dark against the green and white, and for a long time he was plainly in sight. The sun hung red

in a golden sky. The last the watchers saw of Yaqui was when he rode across a ridge and stood silhouetted

against the gold of desert skya wild, lonely, beautiful picture. Then he was gone.

Strangely it came to Gale then that he was glad. Yaqui had returned to his ownthe great spaces, the

desolation, the solitudeto the trails he had trodden when a child, trails haunted now by ghosts of his

people, and ever by his gods. Gale realized that in the Yaqui he had known the spirit of the desert, that this

Tears glistened in Mercedes's magnificent black eyes, and Thorne kissed them awaykissed the fire back to

That action recalled Gale's earlier mood, the joy of the present, and he turned to Nell's sweet face. The desert

was there, wonderful, constructive, ennobling, beautiful, terrible, but it was not for him as it was for the

Indian. In the light of Nell's tremulous returning smile that strange, deep, clutching shadow faded, lost its

hold forever; and he leaned close to her, whispering: "Lluvia d'oro" "Shower of Gold."