Gale felt his own sink--felt 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 thank God he knows
the way."
They mounted and rode down the slope toward the darkening south.
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 cactus--then no more.
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 was not aroused till the last moment.
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