come along with us."

"My friends," said Wellesly, in an even tone in which could barely be
heard here and there the note of suppressed anger, "if you think you
are going to Muletown in this direction, all right, go ahead. That's
your funeral. But it isn't mine. If anybody in this crowd is turned
around I'm not the man. I have been, thanks to your very ingenious
efforts, but I'm not now, and I'm not going any farther in this
direction. Unless you can get a little more light on which way is west
I'm afraid we'll have to part company. Good-bye, gentlemen. I'm going
back."

He turned his horse squarely around and faced the long, gray levels of
the darkening desert. As his eye swept over that forbidding,
waterless, almost trackless waste, a sudden fear of its horrors smote
through his anger and chilled his resolution. Haney spurred his horse
to Wellesly's side, exclaiming:

"Stop, Mr. Wellesly! You can't go back over that desert alone in the
night! Why, you couldn't follow the road two miles after dark! You
know 'ow uncertain it is by day, and in the dark you simply can't see
it at all. The desert is 'ell 'erself in the daytime, and it's worse
at night."

Wellesly did not reply, for his resolve was wavering. Jim came beside
them, swearing over the delay. "See here," he said, "we've got no time
to fool away. If this here tenderfoot thinks he knows better than we
do which way we're going, just let him round-up by himself. I've been
over this here road dozens of times, I reckon, and I know every inch
of it, but I wouldn't undertake to travel a mile after night and keep
to the trail. Maybe he can. If he thinks he's so darned much smarter
than we are let him try it."

"Can we make Muletown to-night?" asked Haney.

Jim swore a big oath. "Didn't you hear me say I don't do no travelin'
on this road at night? No, sir. I know a canyon up in the mountain a
ways where there's sweet water and I'm goin' to camp there to-night.
If you folks want to come with me and eat prospector's grub, all
right, you're welcome."

"Thank you, pard," said Haney. "For my part, I'll be glad to get it.
You'd better come too, Mr. Wellesly. It will be sure death, of the
sort we've been talking about this afternoon, for you to start back
alone."

"You're right," said Wellesly. "I'll go with you."

Jim rode into a canyon which led them into the mountains and for a
mile or more their horses scrambled and stumbled over boulders and
sand heaps. Then