y have better horses, or fresher."

"No," said Stan; "they're riding faster--that's all. They haven't a
chance; they can't keep it up at the rate they're doing now. They're five
miles to the north, and it isn't far to the finish. See that huddle of
little hills in the middle of the plain, ahead and a little to the south?
That's our place, and we can't be caught before we get there. Pete is
saving our horses; they're going strong. These fellows are five miles
away yet. They've shot their bolt, and they know it."

He was right. The bobbing black shapes came abreast--held even--fell
back--came again--hung on, and fell back at last, hopelessly distanced
when the goal was still ten miles away. Pete and his troop held on
at the same unswerving gait--trot, trot, trot! The ten miles became
nine--eight--seven--

Sharp-eyed Benavides touched Pete's arm and pointed. "What's that? By
gar, eet is a man, amigo; a man in some troubles!"

It was a man, a black shape that waved a hat frantically from a swell of
rising ground a mile to the south. Pete swerved his course.

"You've got the best horse, Joe. Gallop up and see what's wrong. I'm
afraid it's Jackson Carr."

It was Jackson Carr. He limped to meet Benavides; the Mexican turned and
swung his hat; the three urged their wearied horses to a gallop.

"Trouble?" said Pete, leaping down.

"Bobby. I tied up his pony and hobbled the rest. At daylight they wasn't
in sight. Bobby went after 'em. I waited a long time and then I hobbled
off down here to see. Wagon's five or six miles north. One of my spans
come from down in Sonora, somewhere--Santa Elena, wherever that is--and
I reckon they're dragging it for home and the others have followed,
unless--unless Bob's pony has fallen, or something. He didn't take any
water. He could follow the tracks back here on this hard ground. But in
the sand down there--with all this wind--" His eye turned to the
shimmering white sandhills along the south, with the dust clouds high
above them.

"Boland, you'll have to give Carr your horse," said Pete. "It's his boy;
and you're 'most dead anyhow. We'll light a big blaze when we find him,
and another on this edge of the sandhills in case you don't see the
first. We'll make two of 'em, a good ways apart, if everything is all
right. You take a canteen and crawl under a bush and rest a while. You
need it. If you feel better after a spell, you can follow these horse
tracks back and hobble along to the wa