From across the depths there came to Gale's ear the Indian's
strange, wild cry.
Then silence, hollow, breathless, stony silence enveloped the great
abyss and its upheaved lava walls. The sun was setting. Every
instant the haze reddened and thickened.
Action on the part of the Yaqui loosened the spell which held Gale
as motionless as his surroundings. The Indian was edging back
toward the ledge. He did not move with his former lithe and sure
freedom. He crawled, slipped, dragged himself, rested often, and
went on again. He had been wounded. When at last he reached
the ledge where Mercedes lay Gale jumped to his feet, strong and
thrilling, spurred to meet the responsibility that now rested upon
him.
Swiftly he turned to where Thorne lay. The cavalryman was just
returning to consciousness. Gale ran for a canteen, bathed his
face, made him drink. The look in Thorne's eyes was hard to bear.
"Thorne! Thorne! it's all right, it's all right!" cried Gale, in
piercing tones. "Mercedes is safe! Yaqui saved her! Rojas is done
for! Yaqui jumped down the wall and drove the bandit off the ledge.
Cut him loose from the wall, foot by foot, hand by hand! We've won
the fight, Thorne."
For Thorne these were marvelous strength-giving words. The
dark horror left his eyes, and they began to dilate, to shine. He
stood up, dizzily but unaided, and he gazed across the crater.
Yaqui had reached the side of Mercedes, was bending over her.
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