But　shadows　were　gathering　there　and　no　moving　line　could　be　seen。
  Yaqui　mounted　and　wheeled　Diablo　away。　　The　others　followed。　Gale　saw　that　the　plateau　was　no　more　than　a　vast　field　of　low；　ragged　circles；　levels；　mounds；　cones；　and　whirls　of　lava。　　The　lava　was　of　a　darker　red　than　that　down　upon　the　slope；　and　it　was　harder　than　flint。　　In　places　fine　sand　and　cinders　covered　the　uneven　floor。　　Strange　varieties　of　cactus　vied　with　the　omnipresent　choya。　Yaqui；　however；　found　ground　that　his　horse　covered　at　a　swift　walk。
  But　there　was　only　an　hour；　perhaps；　of　this　comparatively　easy　going。　　Then　the　Yaqui　led　them　into　a　zone　of　craters。　　The　top　of　the　earth　seemed　to　have　been　blown　out　in　holes　from　a　few　rods　in　width　to　large　craters；　some　shallow；　others　deep；　and　all　red　as　fire。　　Yaqui　circled　close　to　abysses　which　yawned　sheer　from　a　level　surface；　and　he　appeared　always　to　be　turning　upon　his　course　to　avoid　them。
  The　plateau　had　now　a　considerable　dip　to　the　west。　　Gale　marked　the　slow　heave　and　ripple　of　the　ocean　of　lava　to　the　south；　where　high；　rounded　peaks　marked　the　center　of　this　volcanic　region。　　The　uneven　nature　of　the　slope　westward　prevented　any　extended　view；　until　suddenly　the　fugitives　emerged　from　a　rugged　break　to　come　upon　a　sublime　and　awe…inspiring　spectacle。
  They　were　upon　a　high　point　of　the　western　slope　of　the　plateau。　It　was　a　slope；　but　so　many　leagues　long　in　its　descent　that　only　from　a　height　could　any　slant　have　been　perceptible。　　Yaqui　and　his　white　horse　stood　upon　the　brink　of　a　crater　miles　in　circumference；　a　thousand　feet　deep；　with　its　red　walls　patched　in　frost…colored　spots　by　the　silvery　choya。　　The　giant　tracery　of　lava　streams　waved　down　the　slope　to　disappear　in　undulating　sand　dunes。　And　these　bordered　a　seemingly　endless　arm　of　blue　sea。　　This　was　the　Gulf　of　California。　　Beyond　the　Gulf　rose　dim；　bold　mountains；　and　above　them　hung　the　setting　sun；　dusky　red；　flooding　all　that　barren　empire　with　a　sinister　light。
  It　was　strange　to　Gale　then；　and　perhaps　to　the　others；　to　see　their　guide　lead　Diablo　into　a　smooth　and　well…worn　trail　along　the　rim　of　the　awful　crater。　　Gale　looked　down　into　that　red　chasm。　It　resembled　an　inferno。　　The　dark　cliffs　upon　the　opposite　side　were　veiled　in　blue　haze　that　seemed　like　smoke。　　Here　Yaqui　was　at　home。　　He　moved　and　looked　about　him　as　a　man　coming　at　last　into　his　own。　　Gale　saw　him　stop　and　gaze　out　over　that　red…ribbed　void　to　the　Gulf。
  Gale　devined　that　somewhere　along　this　crater　of　hell　the　Yaqui　would　make　his　final　stand；　and　one　look　into　his　strange；　inscrutable　eyes　made　imagination　picture　a　fitting　doom　for　the　pursuing　Rojas。
  XII
  The　Crater　of　Hell
  The　trail　led　along　a　gigantic　fissure　in　the　side　of　the　crater；　and　then　down　and　down　into　a　red…walled；　blue　hazed　labyrinth。
  Presently　Gale；　upon　turning　a　sharp　corner；　was　utterly　amazed　to　see　that　the　split　in　the　lava　sloped　out　and　widened　into　an　arroyo。　　It　was　so　green　and　soft　and　beautiful　in　all　the　angry；　contorted　red　surrounding　that　Gale　could　scarcely　credit　his　sight。　Blanco　Sol　whistled　his　welcome　to　the　scent　of　water。　　Then　Gale　saw　a　great　hole；　a　pit　in　the　shiny　lava；　a　dark；　cool；　shady　well。　There　was　evidence　of　the　fact　that　at　flood　seasons　the　water　had　an　outlet　into　the　arroyo。　　The　soil　appeared　to　be　a　fine　sand；　in　which　a　reddish　tinge　predominated；　and　it　was　abundantly　covered　with　a　long　grass；　still　partly　green。　　Mesquites　and　palo　verdes　dotted　the　arroyo　and　gradually　closed　in　thickets　that　obstructed　the　view。
  〃Shore　it　all　beats　me；〃　exclaimed　Ladd。　　〃What　a　place　to　hole…up　in！　　We　could　have　hid　here　for　a　long　time。　　Boys；　I　saw　mountain　sheep；　the　real　old　genuine　Rocky　Mountain　bighorn。　　What　do　you　think　of　that？〃
  〃I　reckon　it's　a　Yaqui　hunting…ground；〃　replied　Lash。　　〃That　trail　we　hit　must　be　hundreds　of　years　old。　　It's　worn　deep　and　smooth　in　iron　lava。〃
  〃Well；　all　I　got　to　say　isBeldin'　was　shore　right　about　the　Indian。　　An'　I　can　see　Rojas's　finish　somewhere　up　along　that　awful　hell…hole。〃
  Camp　was　made　on　a　level　spot。　　Yaqui　took　the　horses　to　water；　and　then　turned　them　loose　in　the　arroyo。　　It　was　a　tired　and　somber　group　that　sat　down　to　eat。　　The　strain　of　suspense　equaled　the　wearing　effects　of　the　long　ride。　　Mercedes　was　calm；　but　her　great　dark　eyes　burned　in　her　white　face。　　Yaqui　watched　her。　　The　others　looked　at　her　with　unspoken　pride。　　Presently　Thorne　wrapped　her　in　his　blankets；　and　she　seemed　to　fall　asleep　at　once。　　Twilight　deepened。　　The　campfire　blazed　brighter。　　A　cool　wind　played　with　Mercedes's　black　hair；　waving　strands　across　her　brow。
  Little　of　Yaqui's　purpose　or　plan　could　be　elicited　from　him。　　But　the　look　of　him　was　enough　to　satisfy　even　Thorne。　　He　leaned　against　a　pile　of　wood；　which　he　had　collected；　and　his　gloomy　gaze　pierced　the　campfire；　and　at　long　intervals　strayed　over　the　motionless　form　of　the　Spanish　girl。
  The　rangers　and　Thorne；　however；　talked　in　low　tones。　　It　was　absolutely　impossible　for　Rojas　and　his　men　to　reach　the　waterhole　before　noon　of　the　next　day。　　And　long　before　that　time　the　fugitives　would　have　decided　on　a　plan　of　defense。　　What　that　defense　would　be；　and　where　it　would　be　made；　were　matters　over　which　the　men　considered　gravely。　　Ladd　averred　the　Yaqui　would　put　them　into　an　impregnable　position；　that　at　the　same　time　would　prove　a　death…trap　for　their　pursuers。　　They　exhausted　every　possibility；　and　then；　tired　as　they　were；　still　kept　on　talking。
  〃What　stuns　me　is　that　Rojas　stuck　to　our　trail；〃　said　Thorne；　his　lined　and　haggard　face　expressive　of　dark　passion。　　〃He　has　followed　us　into　this　fearful　desert。　　He'll　lose　men；　horses；　perhaps　his　life。　　He's　only　a　bandit；　and　he　stands　to　win　no　gold。　　If　he　ever　gets　out　of　here　it　'll　be　by　herculean　labor　and　by　terrible　hardship。　　All　for　a　poor　little　helpless　womanjust　a　woman！　My　God；　I　can't　understand　it。〃
  〃Shorejust　a　woman；〃　replied　Ladd；　solemnly　nodding　his　head。
  Then　there　was　a　long　silence　during　which　the　men　gazed　into　the　fire。　　Each；　perhaps；　had　some　vague　conception　of　the　enormity　of　Rojas's　love　or　hatesome　faint　and　amazing　glimpse　of　the　gulf　of　human　passion。　　Those　were　cold；　hard；　grim　faces　upon　which　the　light　flickered。
  〃Sleep；〃　said　the　Yaqui。
  Thorne　rolled　in　his　blanket　close　beside　Mercedes。　　Then　one　by　one　the　rangers　stretched　out；　feet　to　the　fire。　　Gale　found　that　he　could　not　sleep。　　His　eyes　were　weary；　but　they　would　not　stay　shut；　his　body　ached　for　rest；　yet　he　could　not　lie　still。　　The　night　was　so　somber；　so　gloomy；　and　the　lava…encompassed　arroyo　full　of　shadows。　　The　dark　velvet　sky；　fretted　with　white　fire；　seemed　to　be　close。　　There　was　an　absolute　silence；　as　of　death。　　Nothing　movednothing　outside　of　Gale's　body　appeared　to　live。　　The　Yaqui　sat　like　an　image　carved　out　of　lava。　　The　others　lay　prone　and　quiet。　　Would　another　night　see　any　of　them　lie　that　way；　quiet　forever？　　Gale　felt　a　ripple　pass　over　him　that　was　at　once　a　shudder　and　a　contraction　of　muscles。　　Used　as　he　was　to　the　desert　and　its　oppression；　why　should　he　feel　to…night　as　if　the　weight　of　its　lava　and　the　burden　of　its　mystery　were　bearing　him　down？
  He　sat　up　after　a　while　and　again　watched　the　fire。　　Nell's　sweet　face　floated　like　a　wraith　in　the　pale　smokeglowed　and　flushed　and　smiled　in　the　embers。　　Other　faces　shone　therehis　sister's　that　of　his　mother。　　Gale　shook　off　the　tender　memories。　　This　desolate　wilderness　with　its　forbidding　silence　and　its　dark　promise　of　hell　on　the　morrowthis　was　not　the　place　to　unnerve　oneself　with　thoughts　of　love　and　home。　　But　the　torturing　paradox　of　the　thing　was　that　this　was　just　the　place　and　just　the　night　for　a　man　to　be　haunted。
  By　and　by　Gale　rose　and　walked　down　a　shadowy　aisle　between　the　mesquites。　　On　his　way　back　the　Yaqui　joined　him。　Gale　was　not　surprised。　　He　had　become　used　to　the　Indian's　strange　guardianship。　　But　now；　perhaps　because　of　Gale's　poignancy　of　thought；　the　contending　tides　of　love　and　regret；　the　deep；　burning　premonition　of　deadly　strife；　he　was　moved　to　keener　scrutiny　of　the　Yaqui。　　That；　of　course；　was　futile。　　The　Indian　was　impenetrable；　silent；　strange。　　But　suddenly；　inexplicably；　Gale　felt　Yaqui's　human　quality。　　It　was　aloof；　as　was　everything　about　this　Indian；　but　it　was　there。　　This　savage　walked　silently　beside　him；　without　glance　or　touch　or　word。　　His　thought　was　as　inscrutable　as　if　mind　had　never　awakened　in　his　race。　　Yet　Gale　was　conscious　of　greatness；　and；　somehow；　he　was　reminded　of　the　Indian's　story。　　His　home　had　been　desolated；　his　people　carried　off　to　slavery；　his　wife　and　children　separated　from　him　to　die。　　What　had　life　meant　to　the　Yaqui？　　What　had　been　in　his　heart？　　What　was　now　in　his　mind？　　Gale　could　not　answer　these　questions。　　But　the　difference　between　himself　and　Yaqui；　which　he　had　vaguely　felt　as　that　between　savage　and　civilized　men；　faded　out　of　his　mind　forever。　　Yaqui　might　have　considered　he　owed　Gale　a　debt；　and；　with　a　Yaqui's　austere　and　noble　fidelity　to　honor；　he　meant　to　pay　it。　　Nevertheless；　this　was　not　the　thing　Gale　found　in　the　Indian's　silent　presence。　　Accepting　t