She stirred. Yaqui lifted her to her feet. She appeared weak,
unable to stand alone. But she faced across the crater and waved
her hand. She was unharmed. Thorne lifted both arms above head,
and from his lips issued a cry. It was neither call nor holloa nor
welcome nor answer. Like the Yaqui's, it could scarcely be named.
But it was deep, husky, prolonged, terribly human in its intensity.
It made Gale shudder and made his heart beat like a trip hammer.
Mercedes again waved a white hand. The Yaqui waved, too, and Gale
saw in the action an urgent signal.
Hastily taking up canteen and rifles, Gale put a supporting arm
around Thorne.
"Come, old man. Can you walk? Sure you can walk! Lean on me,
and we'll soon get out of this. Don't look across. Look where you
step. We've not much time before dark. Oh, Thorne, I'm afraid
Jim has cashed in! And the last I saw of Laddy he was badly hurt."
Gale was keyed up to a high pitch of excitement and alertness.
He seemed to be able to do many things. But once off the ragged
notched lava into the trail he had not such difficulty with Thorne,
and could keep his keen gaze shifting everywhere for sight of
enemies.
"Listen, Thorne! What's that?" asked Gale, halting as they came
to a place where the trail led down through rough breaks in the
lava. The silence was broken by a strange sound, almost
unbelieveable considering the time and place. A voice was droning:
"Turn the lady, turn! Turn the lady, turn! Alamon left.
Pages:
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317