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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"Desert Gold"

"Gentlemen,
you can gamble Yaqui 'll kill the Papago. That traitor Indian
knows these sheep haunts. He's tellin' Rojas--"
A sharp rifle shot rang out.
"Laddy's right," called Gale. "The Papago's hit--his arm
falls--There, he tumbles!"
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 his intention was to draw pursuers within
rifle shot.
"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 drawn-faced,
passionate Thorne. "He didn't take it!...He didn't take it!"
Only Ladd appeared to be able to answer the cavalryman's
poignant cry.
"Listen, son," he said, and his voice rang. "We-all 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.


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