aw you
limp."

"I'm not asking your permission, thanks."

As she unbuckled her spurs Lennon noticed that the girl's boots were not
built with the usual cowboy high heels. They would be suitable for
walking.

The pony had wandered some distance down the wash, cunningly twitching
his trailing reins to one side, clear of his hoofs. While Lennon started
to cache his packsaddle and the other discarded articles of his outfit,
Carmena went after her would-be stray, limping and gingerly picking her
steps when she saw that the young man's back was turned. After catching
her pony she crouched down behind a corner of rock to unlace her boots.
They came off with difficulty.

Inside the boots, she had been wearing a pair of curious high-top
boot-moccasins with thick back-doubled toes. In a twinkling she stripped
off the moccasins and thrust them down into the bottom of one of the
saddlebags. With her feet uncramped and easy in her relaced boots, she
sprang into the saddle and loped back up the trail.

Lennon's cache was a cavity under an overhanging ledge. Before he had
blocked the opening to his satisfaction with fragments of rock the rest
of his outfit had been securely packed upon the pony by Carmena. Nothing
was left out except rifles, cartridge-belts and two half-gallon canteens
of water.

"Keep your gun loaded and never put all your water on your horse." The
girl gave her companion the two first maxims of desert travel. "Come
along. No use trying to hide your cache or your trail from Apaches. Only
another Apache can do that. It's high time we hit out, anyhow."

To the surprise of Lennon, she started up the arroyo. When he joined
her, the pony, whose reins had been tied to the pack, snorted and shied.
But at a call from Carmena, the skittish beast followed his mistress up
the arroyo like a dog.

"How about the chance of running into that murderous savage if we go
this way?" Lennon inquired.

"You might be safer if you hurried back to the railroad," replied
Carmena, and she swung the steepening side of the arroyo.

Lennon's lips tightened. He did not again question his guide's choice of
route. But, like her, he held his rifle ready as they came up over the
round of a stony ridge. Though neither could see the slightest sign of
lurking Indians, Carmena hastened to lead her pony across the ridge
crest and down the other side.

When safe below the skyline the girl broke into a dog trot. She held to
the pace, on a long