sun　began　to　climb　and　the　icy　edge　of　dawn　to　wear　away。　　Rabbits　bobbed　their　cotton　tails　under　the　mesquite。　　Gale　climbed　a　rocky　wall　above　the　arroyo　bank；　and　there；　with　command　over　the　miles　of　the　back…trail；　he　watched。
  It　was　a　sweeping；　rolling；　wrinkled；　and　streaked　range　of　desert　that　he　saw；　ruddy　in　the　morning　sunlight；　with　patches　of　cactus　and　mesquite　rough…etched　in　shimmering　gloom。　　No　Name　Mountains　split　the　eastern　sky；　towering　high；　gloomy；　grand；　with　purple　veils　upon　their　slopes。　　They　were　forty　miles　away　and　looked　five。　Gale　thought　of　the　girl　who　was　there　under　their　shadow。
  Yaqui　kept　the　horses　bunched；　and　he　led　them　from　one　little　park　of　galleta　grass　to　another。　　At　the　end　of　three　hours　he　took　them　to　water。　　Upon　his　return　Gale　clambered　down　from　his　outlook；　the　rangers　grew　active。　　Mercedes　was　awakened；　and　soon　the　party　faced　westward；　their　long　shadows　moving　before　them。　Yaqui　led　with　Blanco　Diablo　in　a　long；　easy　lope。　　The　arroyo　washed　itself　out　into　flat　desert；　and　the　greens　began　to　shade　into　gray；　and　then　the　gray　into　red。　　Only　sparse　cactus　and　weathered　ledges　dotted　the　great　low　roll　of　a　rising　escarpment。
  Yaqui　suited　the　gait　of　his　horse　to　the　lay　of　the　land；　and　his　followers　accepted　his　pace。　　There　were　canter　and　trot；　and　swift　walk　and　slow　climb；　and　long　swingmiles　up　and　down　and　forward。　　The　sun　soared　hot。　　The　heated　air　lifted；　and　incoming　currents　from　the　west　swept　low　and　hard　over　the　barren　earth。　　In　the　distance；　all　around　the　horizon；　accumulations　of　dust　seemed　like　ranging；　mushrooming　yellow　clouds。
  Yaqui　was　the　only　one　of　the　fugitives　who　never　looked　back。　Mercedes　did　it　the　most。　　Gale　felt　what　compelled　her；　he　could　not　resist　it　himself。　　But　it　was　a　vain　search。　　For　a　thousand　puffs　of　white　and　yellow　dust　rose　from　that　backward　sweep　of　desert；　and　any　one　of　them　might　have　been　blown　from　under　horses'　hoofs。　　Gale　had　a　conviction　that　when　Yaqui　gazed　back　toward　the　well　and　the　shining　plain　beyond；　there　would　be　reason　for　it。　　But　when　the　sun　lost　its　heat　and　the　wind　died　down　Yaqui　took　long　and　careful　surveys　westward　from　the　high　points　on　the　trail。　　Sunset　was　not　far　off；　and　there　in　a　bare；　spotted　valley　lay　Coyote　Tanks；　the　only　waterhole　between　Papago　Well　and　the　Sonoyta　Oasis。　　Gale　used　his　glass；　told　Yaqui　there　was　no　smoke；　no　sign　of　life；　still　the　Indian　fixed　his　falcon　eyes　on　distant　spots　looked　long。　　It　was　as　if　his　vision　could　not　detect　what　reason　or　cunning　or　intuition；　perhaps　an　instinct；　told　him　was　there。　　Presently　in　a　sheltered　spot；　where　blown　sand　had　not　obliterated　the　trail；　Yaqui　found　the　tracks　of　horses。　　The　curve　of　the　iron　shoes　pointed　westward。　An　intersecting　trail　from　the　north　came　in　here。　　Gale　thought　the　tracks　either　one　or　two　days　old。　　Ladd　said　they　were　one　day。　The　Indian　shook　his　head。
  No　farther　advance　was　undertaken。　　The　Yaqui　headed　south　and　traveled　slowly；　climbing　to　the　brow　of　a　bold　height　of　weathered　mesa。　　There　he　sat　his　horse　and　waited。　　No　one　questioned　him。　The　rangers　dismounted　to　stretch　their　legs；　and　Mercedes　was　lifted　to　a　rock；　where　she　rested。　　Thorne　had　gradually　yielded　to　the　desert's　influence　for　silence。　　He　spoke　once　or　twice　to　Gale；　and　occasionally　whispered　to　Mercedes。　　Gale　fancied　his　friend　would　soon　learn　that　necessary　speech　in　desert　travel　meant　a　few　greetings；　a　few　words　to　make　real　the　fact　of　human　companionship；　a　few　short；　terse　terms　for　the　business　of　day　or　night；　and　perhaps　a　stern　order　or　a　soft　call　to　a　horse。
  The　sun　went　down；　and　the　golden；　rosy　veils　turned　to　blue　and　shaded　darker　till　twilight　was　there　in　the　valley。　　Only　the　spurs　of　mountains；　spiring　the　near　and　far　horizon；　retained　their　clear　outline。　　Darkness　approached；　and　the　clear　peaks　faded。　　The　horses　stamped　to　be　on　the　move。
  〃Malo！〃　exclaimed　the　Yaqui。
  He　did　not　point　with　arm；　but　his　falcon　head　was　outstretched；　and　his　piercing　eyes　gazed　at　the　blurring　spot　which　marked　the　location　of　Coyote　Tanks。
  〃Jim；　can　you　see　anything？〃　asked　Ladd。
  〃Nope；　but　I　reckon　he　can。〃
  Darkness　increased　momentarily　till　night　shaded　the　deepest　part　of　the　valley。
  Then　Ladd　suddenly　straightened　up；　turned　to　his　horse；　and　muttered　low　under　his　breath。
  〃I　reckon　so；〃　said　Lash；　and　for　once　his　easy；　good…natured　tone　was　not　in　evidence。　　His　voice　was　harsh。
  Gale's　eyes；　keen　as　they　were；　were　last　of　the　rangers　to　see　tiny；　needle…points　of　light　just　faintly　perceptible　in　the　blackness。
  〃Laddy！　　Campfires？〃　he　asked；　quickly。
  〃Shore's　you're　born；　my　boy。〃
  〃How　many？〃
  Ladd　did　not　reply；　but　Yaqui　held　up　his　hand；　his　fingers　wide。　Five　campfires！　　A　strong　force　of　rebels　or　raiders　or　some　other　desert　troop　was　camping　at　Coyote　Tanks。
  Yaqui　sat　his　horse　for　a　moment；　motionless　as　stone；　his　dark　face　immutable　and　impassive。　　Then　he　stretched　wide　his　right　arm　in　the　direction　of　No　Name　Mountains；　now　losing　their　last　faint　traces　of　the　afterglow；　and　he　shook　his　head。　　He　made　the　same　impressive　gesture　toward　the　Sonoyta　Oasis　with　the　same　somber　negation。
  Thereupon　he　turned　Diablo's　head　to　the　south　and　started　down　the　slope。　　His　manner　had　been　decisive；　even　stern。　　Lash　did　not　question　it；　nor　did　Ladd。　　Both　rangers　hesitated；　however；　and　showed　a　strange；　almost　sullen　reluctance　which　Gale　had　never　seen　in　them　before。　　Raiders　were　one　thing；　Rojas　was　another；　Camino　del　Diablo　still　another；　but　that　vast　and　desolate　and　unwatered　waste　of　cactus　and　lava；　the　Sonora　Desert；　might　appal　the　stoutest　heart。　　Gale　felt　his　own　sinkfelt　himself　flinch。
  〃Oh；　where　is　he　going？〃　cried　Mercedes。　　Her　poignant　voice　seemed　to　break　a　spell。
  〃Shore；　lady；　Yaqui's　goin'　home；〃　replied　Ladd；　gently。　　〃An'　considerin'　our　troubles　I　reckon　we　ought　to　thank　God　he　knows　the　way。〃
  They　mounted　and　rode　down　the　slope　toward　the　darkening　south。
  Not　until　night　travel　was　obstructed　by　a　wall　of　cactus　did　the　Indian　halt　to　make　a　dry　camp。　　Water　and　grass　for　the　horses　and　fire　to　cook　by　were　not　to　be　had。　　Mercedes　bore　up　surprisingly；　but　she　fell　asleep　almost　the　instant　her　thirst　had　been　allayed。　　Thorne　laid　her　upon　a　blanket　and　covered　her。　The　men　ate　and　drank。　　Diablo　was　the　only　horse　that　showed　impatience；　but　he　was　angry；　and　not　in　distress。　　Blanco　Sol　licked　Gale's　hand　and　stood　patiently。　　Many　a　time　had　he　taken　his　rest　at　night　without　a　drink。　　Yaqui　again　bade　the　men　sleep。　Ladd　said　he　would　take　the　early　watch；　but　from　the　way　the　Indian　shook　his　head　and　settled　himself　against　a　stone；　it　appeared　if　Ladd　remained　awake　he　would　have　company。　　Gale　lay　down　weary　of　limb　and　eye。　　He　heard　the　soft　thump　of　hoofs；　the　sough　of　wind　in　the　cactusthen　no　more。
  When　he　awoke　there　was　bustle　and　stir　about　him。　　Day　had　not　yet　dawned；　and　the　air　was　freezing　cold。　　Yaqui　had　found　a　scant　bundle　of　greasewood　which　served　to　warm　them　and　to　cook　breakfast。　　Mercedes　was　not　aroused　till　the　last　moment。
  Day　dawned　with　the　fugitives　in　the　saddle。　　A　picketed　wall　of　cactus　hedged　them　in；　yet　the　Yaqui　made　a　tortuous　path；　that；　zigzag　as　it　might；　in　the　main　always　headed　south。　　It　was　wonderful　how　he　slipped　Diablo　through　the　narrow　aisles　of　thorns；　saving　the　horse　and　saving　himself。　　The　others　were　torn　and　clutched　and　held　and　stung。　　The　way　was　a　flat；　sandy　pass　between　low　mountain　ranges。　　There　were　open　spots　and　aisles　and　squares　of　sand；　and　hedging　rows　of　prickly　pear　and　the　huge　spider…legged　ocatillo　and　hummocky　masses　of　clustered　bisnagi。　　The　day　grew　dry　and　hot。　　A　fragrant　wind　blew　through　the　pass。　　Cactus　flowers　bloomed；　red　and　yellow　and　magenta。　　The　sweet；　pale　Ajo　lily　gleamed　in　shady　corners。
  Ten　miles　of　travel　covered　the　length　of　the　pass。　　It　opened　wide　upon　a　wonderful　scene；　an　arboreal　desert；　dominated　by　its　pure　light　green；　yet　lined　by　many　merging　colors。　　And　it　rose　slowly　to　a　low　dim　and　dark…red　zone　of　lava；　spurred；　peaked；　domed　by　volcano　cones；　a　wild　and　ragged　region；　illimitable　as　the　horizon。
  The　Yaqui；　if　not　at　fault；　was　yet　uncertain。　　His　falcon　eyes　searched　and　roved；　and　became　fixed　at　length　at　the　southwest；　and　toward　this　he　turned　his　horse。　　The　great；　fluted　saguaros；　fifty；　sixty　feet　high；　raised　columnal　forms；　and　their　branching　limbs　and　curving　lines　added　a　grace　to　the　desert。　　It　was　the　low…bushed　cactus　that　made　the　toil　and　pain　of　travel。　　Yet　these　thorny　forms　were　beautiful。
  In　the　basins　between　the　ridges；　to　right　and　left　along　the　floor　of　low　plains　the　mirage　glistened；　wavered；　faded；　vanishedlakes　and　trees　and　clouds。　　Inverted　mountains　hung　suspended　in　the　lilac　air　and　faint　tracery　of　white…walled　cities。
  At　noon　Yaqui　halted　the　cavalcade。　　He　had　selected　a　field　of　bisnagi　cactus　for　the　place　of　rest。　　Presently　his　reason　became　obvious。　　With　long；　heavy　knife　he　cut　off　the　tops　of　these　barrel…shaped　plants。　　He　scooped　out　soft　pulp；　and　with　stone　and　hand　then　began　to