Here was grass enough for many horses;
the arroyo was indeed an oasis.
Ladd and the others were awaiting Gale's report, and they received
it with calmness, yet with a joy no less evident because it was
restrained. Gale, in his keen observation at the moment, found
that he and his comrades turned with glad eyes to the woman of
the party.
"Senor Laddy, you think--you believe--we shall--" she faltered,
and her voice failed. It was the woman in her, weakening in the
light of real hope, of the happiness now possible beyond that
desert barrier.
"Mercedes, no white man can tell what'll come to pass out here,"
said Ladd, earnestly. "Shore I have hopes now I never dreamed of.
I was pretty near a dead man. The Indian saved me. Queer notions
have come into my head about Yaqui. I don't understand them. He
seems when you look at him only a squalid, sullen, vengeful savage.
But Lord! that's far from the truth. Mebbe Yaqui's different from
most Indians. He looks the same, though. Mebbe the trouble is we
white folks never knew the Indian. Anyway, Beldin' had it right.
Yaqui's our godsend. Now as to the future, I'd like to know mebbe
as well as you if we're ever to get home. Only bein' what I am,
I say, Quien sabe? But somethin' tells me Yaqui knows. Ask him,
Mercedes. Make him tell. We'll all be the better for knowin'.
We'd be stronger for havin' more'n our faith in him. He's silent
Indian, but make him tell."
Mercedes called to Yaqui.
Pages:
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338