Mercedes lay in deep slumber. Thorne had a high
fever, and was beginning to show signs of restlessness. Ladd
seemed just barely alive. Jim Lash slept as if he was not much
the worse for his wound.
Gale rose from his examination with a sharp breaking of his cold
mood. While there was life in Thorne and Ladd there was hope
for them. Then he faced his problem, and his decision was instant.
He awoke Mercedes. How wondering, wistful, beautiful was that first
opening flash of her eyes! Then the dark, troubled thought came.
Swiftly she sat up.
"Mercedes--come. Are you all right? Laddy is alive Thorne's not
--not so bad. But we've got a job on our hands! You must help me."
She bent over Thorne and laid her hands on his hot face. Then she
rose--a woman such as he had imagined she might be in an hour of
trial.
Gale took up Ladd as carefully and gently as possible.
"Mercedes, bring what you can carry and follow me," he said. Then,
motioning for Yaqui to remain there, he turned down the slope with
Ladd in his arms.
Neither pausing nor making a misstep nor conscious of great effort,
Gale carried the wounded man down into the arroyo. Mercedes
kept at his heels, light, supple, lithe as a panther. He left her
with Ladd and went back. When he had started off with Thorne
in his arms he felt the tax on his strength. Surely and swiftly,
however, he bore the cavalryman down the trail to lay him beside
Ladd. Again he started back, and when he began to mount the
steep lava steps he was hot, wet, breathing hard.
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