The ranger talked for two hours--talked till his voice weakened
to a husky whisper. At the conclusion of his story there was an
impressive silence. Then Elsie Gale stood up, and with her hand
on Dick's shoulder, her eyes bright and warm as sunlight, she
showed the rangers what a woman thought of them and of the Yaqui.
Nell clung to Dick, weeping silently. Mrs. Gale was overcome,
and Mr. Gale, very white and quiet, helped her up to her room.
"The Indian! the Indian!" burst out Belding, his voice deep and
rolling. "What did I tell you? Didn't I say he'd be a godsend?
Remember what I said about Yaqui and some gory Aztec knifework?
So he cut Rojas loose from that awful crater wall, foot by foot,
finger by finger, slow and terrible? And Rojas didn't hang long
on the choya thorns? Thank the Lord for that!...Laddy, no story
of Camino del Diablo can hold a candle to yours. The flight
and the fight were jobs for men. But living through this long
hot summer and coming out--that's a miracle. Only the Yaqui
could have done it. The Yaqui! The Yaqui!"
"Shore. Charlie Ladd looks up at an Indian these days. But
Beldin', as for the comin' out, don't forget the hosses. Without
grand old Sol an' Diablo, who I don't hate no more, an' the other
Blancos, we'd never have got here. Yaqui an' the hosses, that's
my story!"
Early in the afternoon of the next day Belding encountered Dick
at the water barrel.
"Belding, this is river water, and muddy at that," said Dick.
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