You may get to Yuma in six days, and maybe in six weeks. Yet
you've got to pack light--a small pack in saddles--larger 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
desert."
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 sitting-room.
There was nothing more to do but wait and say good-by. Mercedes
came clad in leather chaps and coat, a slim stripling of a cowboy,
her dark eyes flashing. Her beauty could not be hidden, and now
hope and courage had fired her blood.
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.
"Dearest, I'm going--soon....And maybe I'll never--"
"Dick, do--don't say it," sobbed Nell, with her head on his breast.
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