ong."

Lennon sprang to his feet.

"Mount your horse and ride as fast as you can," he ordered. "I'll trot
along after you. Don't bother about me. I can shoot well enough
left-handed to hold off the beggars until dark."

Carmena suddenly came close to him, her eyes aglow with soft radiance.
She caught up his injured hand. It was still swollen and bleeding, but
the purple-black discoloration had lightened to red; her deft fingers
tore a strip from her handkerchief and bound up the ragged wounds.

"There. Now you'll get on and ride," she said. "You don't suppose I'll
leave you to those devils, after you saved my life!"

"But it is you who have saved mine, Miss Farley."

"To say that--when you jammed your hand into the monster's mouth! If he
had bit me I'd have had no show at all. You didn't know how to treat the
poison. No. Either the bronchos will get us both, or we're going to win
through to the ranch together."

"But, Miss Farley----"

The heat-flush in the girl's tanned cheeks deepened to rose.

"I never before knew a man like you, Jack. Won't you call me Carmena?"

The candid directness of this rather took Lennon's breath. But the girl
was of the desert--efficient, resolute, crude in dress, yet rich
coloured as the bloom of the red-flowered cactus. She had saved him
from the horrible death of the Gila monster's poison and was now intent
upon saving him from even worse fate at the hands of the murderous
Apaches.

He caught up her willing hand in an eager clasp.

"Carmena!--To have a girl like you for pal--it's simply ripping!"

"Pal?" she repeated the word after him, as if not quite certain of its
meaning. "Oh, you mean pard. Yes, we're partners now--for this deal at
least--whether it means life or death."

CHAPTER IV

PARDS IN PERIL

As Lennon's clasp relaxed, the girl's tightened. She drew him toward the
pony.

"You've got to ride," she said. "You can't stand the pace. That poison
is no joke. Don't want to hold me back, do you?"

The question overcame Lennon's reluctance. The girl had refused to leave
him, and she was right about the poison. He could endure the severe pain
of his wounded hand, but he was still weak and badly shaken from the
effects of the venom. Unless he rode he would be a drag upon her.

"Very well," he agreed, and he permitted her to help him clamber up into
the saddle.

No time was lost over lengthening the stirrup leathers. Carmena handed
him his rifle and the h