Gale felt
the quick throb of her heart.
"Senor! Senor Dick!" she cried. Then her voice failed. But
her hands flew up; quick as a flash she raised her face--kissed
him. Then she turned and with a sob fell into Thorne's arms.
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 moved--stirred to the depths during the last hour--had
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 fate he had spared her.
"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 station--the 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 out of the darkness, clearer, sharper, faster.
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