As he reached
the scene of that night's camp a voice greeted him. Jim Lash was
sitting up.
"Hello, Dick. I woke some late this mornin'. Where's Laddy? Dick,
you ain't a-goin' to say--"
"Laddy's alive--that's about all," replied Dick.
"Where's Thorne an' Mercedes? Look here, man. I reckon you ain't
packin' this crippled outfit down that awful trail?"
"Had to, Jim. An hour's sun--would kill--both Laddy and Thorne.
Come on now."
For once Jim Lash's cool good nature and careless indifference
gave precedence to amaze and concern.
"Always knew you was a husky chap. But, Dick, you're no hoss!
Get me a crutch an' give me a lift on one side."
"Come on," replied Gale. "I've no time to monkey."
He lifted the ranger, called to Yaqui to follow with some of the
camp outfit, and once more essayed the steep descent. Jim Lash
was the heaviest man of the three, and Gale's strength was put
to enormous strain to carry him on that broken trail.
Nevertheless, Gale went down, down, walking swiftly and surely
over the bad places; and at last he staggered into the arroyo with
bursting heart and red-blinded eyes. When he had recovered he
made a final trip up the slope for the camp effects which Yaqui had
been unable to carry.
Then he drew Jim and Mercedes and Yaqui, also, into an earnest
discussion of ways and means whereby to fight for the life of
Thorne. Ladd's case Gale now considered hopeless, though he
meant to fight for him, too, as long as he breathed.
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