ssing downward, had torn an artery under the arch of the
foot. Making a rude tourniquet, he succeeded in checking pretty well
the spurting flow that was sapping his strength. After he had adjusted
the bandage he stood up and looked at it. Then he drew his revolver
again and broke it. He found five empty shells in the chambers and
threw them away. The last cartridge had not been fired. He could not
even figure out how he had happened to have six cartridges in the
cylinder, for he rarely loaded more than five. Indeed, it was his
fixed habit--to avoid accidents--never to carry a cartridge under the
hammer of his gun--yet now there had been one. Without trying to
explain the circumstance, he took fresh stock of his chances and began
to wonder whether he might yet escape and live.

He climbed again into the saddle, and, riding to a ridge, looked
carefully over the desert. It was with an effort that he could steady
himself, and the extent of his weakness surprised him. What further
perplexed him as he crossed a long divide, got another good view and
saw no pursuit threatening in any direction, was to identify the
country he was in. The only landmark anywhere in sight that he could
recognize was Music Mountain. This now lay to the northwest, and he
knew he must be a long way from any country he was familiar with. But
there was no gainsaying, even in his confused condition, Music
Mountain. After looking at it a long time he headed with some
hesitation cautiously toward it, with intent to intercept the first
trail to the northeast. This would take him toward Sleepy Cat.

As his eyes continued to sweep the horizon he noted that the sun was
down and it was growing dark. This brought a relief and a difficulty.
It left him less in fear of molestation, but made it harder for him to
reach a known trail. The horse, in spite of the long, hard ride seemed
fresh yet, and de Spain, with one cartridge would still have laughed
at his difficulties had he not realized, with uneasiness, that his
head was becoming very light. Recurring intervals of giddiness
foreshadowed a new danger in his uncharted ride. It became again a
problem for him to keep his seat in the saddle. He was aware at
intervals that he was steadying himself like a drunken man. His
efforts to guide the horse only bewildered the beast, and the two
travelled on maudlin curves and doubled back on their track until de
Spain decided that his sole chance of reaching any known trail