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 narrow trail led across the dry
river bed.
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 sand-filled,
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, then in Spanish.
"Think he means slow march," said Belding. "Laddy, from the looks
of that trail the Greasers are having trouble with the horses."
"Tom, shore a boy could see that," replied Laddy. "Ask Yaqui to tell
us where the raiders are headin', an' if there's water."
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.
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