Ask Yaqui if he
thinks it 'll rain."
Mercedes questioned the Indian.
"He says no man can tell surely. But he thinks the rain will
come," she replied.
"Shore it 'll rain, you can gamble on that now," continued Ladd.
"If there's only grass for the hosses! We can't get out of here
without hosses. Dick, take the Indian an' scout down the arroyo.
To-day I seen the hosses were gettin' fat. Gettin' fat in this
desert! But mebbe they've about grazed up all the grass. Go an'
see, Dick. An' may you come back with more good news!"
Gale, upon the few occasions when he had wandered down the arroyo,
had never gone far. The Yaqui said there was grass for the horses,
and until now no one had given the question more consideration.
Gale found that the arroyo widened as it opened. Near the head,
where it was narrow, the grass lined the course of the dry stream
bed. But farther down this stream bed spread out. There was every
indication that at flood seasons the water covered the floor of the
arroyo. The farther Gale went the thicker and larger grew the
gnarled mesquites and palo verdes, the more cactus and greasewood
there were, and other desert growths. Patches of gray grass grew
everywhere. Gale began to wonder where the horses were. Finally
the trees and brush thinned out, and a mile-wide gray plain
stretched down to reddish sand dunes. Over to one side were the
white horses, and even as Gale saw them both Blanco Diablo and
Sol lifted their heads and, with white manes tossing in the wind,
whistled clarion calls.
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