All
swing; turn the lady, turn!"
"Hello, Jim," called Gale, dragging Thorne round the corner of
lava. "Where are you? Oh, you son of a gun! I thought you were
dead. Oh, I'm glad to see you! Jim, are you hurt?"
Jim Lash stood in the trail leaning over the butt of his rifle,
which evidently he was utilizing as a crutch. He was pale but
smiling. His hands were bloody. A scarf had been bound tightly
round his left leg just above the knee. The leg hung limp, and
the foot dragged.
"I reckon I ain't injured much," replied Him. "But my leg hurts
like hell, if you want to know."
"Laddy! Oh, where's Laddy?"
"He's just across the crack there. I was trying to get to him. We
had it hot an' heavy down here. Laddy was pretty bad shot up
before he tried to head Rojas off the trail....Dick, did you see the
Yaqui go after Rojas?"
"Did I!" exclaimed Gale, grimly.
"The finish was all that saved me from runnin' loco plumb over the
rim. You see I was closer'n you to where Mercedes was hid. When
Rojas an' his last Greaser started across, Laddy went after them,
but I couldn't. Laddy did for Rojas's man, then went down himself.
But he got up an' fell, got up, went on, an' fell again. Laddy kept
doin' that till he dropped for good. I reckon our chances are
against findin' him alive....I tell you, boys, Rojas was hell-bent.
An' Mercedes was game. I saw her shoot him. But mebbe bullets
couldn't stop him then. If I didn't sweat blood when Mercedes was
fightin' him on the cliff! Then the finish! Only a Yaqui could
have done that.
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