ks stretched forward. Out from their nests of foulness
the desert scavengers were coming for their spoil.

Chapter XXXVII. At the Water-Hole

Up from the far, dim southwest they rode slowly, silently, wearied still
by the exertions of the past night, and burned by the fierce rays of
the desert sun. No wind of sufficient force had blown since Keith passed
that way, and they could easily follow the hoof prints of his horse
across the sand waste. Bristoe was ahead, hat brim drawn low, scanning
the horizon line unceasingly. Somewhere out in the midst of that mystery
was hidden tragedy, and he dreaded the knowledge of its truth. Behind
him Fairbain, and Hope rode together, their lips long since grown
silent, the man ever glancing uneasily aside at her, the girl drooping
slightly in the saddle, with pale face and heavy eyes. Five prisoners,
lashed together, the binding ropes fastened to the pommels of the two
"Bar X" men's saddles, were bunched together, and behind all came Neb,
his black face glistening in the heat.

Suddenly Bristoe drew rein, and rose to his full length in the
stirrups, shading his eyes from the sun's glare, as he stared ahead. Two
motionless black specks were visible--yet were they motionless? or was
it the heat waves which seemed to yield them movement? He drove in his
spurs, driving his startled horse to the summit of a low sand ridge, and
again halted, gazing intently forward. He was not mistaken--they
were horses. Knowing instantly what it meant--those riderless animals
drifting derelict in the heart of the desert--his throat dry with fear,
the scout wheeled, and spurred back to his party, quickly resolving on a
course of action. Hawley and Keith had met; both had fallen, either
dead or wounded. A moment's delay now might cost a life; he would need
Fairbain, but he must keep the girl back, if possible. But could he? She
straightened up in the saddle as he came spurring toward them; her eyes
wide open, one hand clutching at her throat.

"Doctor," he called as soon as he was near enough, his horse circling,
"thar is somethin' showin' out yonder I'd like ter take a look at, an' I
reckon you better go 'long. The nigger kin com' up ahead yere with Miss
Waite."

She struck her horse, and he plunged forward, bringing her face to face
with Bristoe.

"What is it? Tell me, what is it?"

"Nothin' but a loose hoss, Miss."

"A horse! here on the desert?" looking about, her eyes dark with horror.