its death surge.

Bob got out and looked at the stalled car hopelessly. The boiling wind
surged over the hot dust and smote him witheringly. The driven sand
almost suffocated him. It was twenty-five miles at least to the river,
twenty more to possible assistance. He looked at his watch--it was
five minutes after one. Six hours before the sun would set, and until
then walking would be suicide.

He climbed back into the machine, and sank limply into the shaded
corner of the seat. Six hours of this--it would be torture; and there
would be one long night of walking to reach water; another day of
waiting for night--without food--and again a long, staggering walk
before they reached a human habitation.

Two days and nights of delay--then it would be too late!

CHAPTER XXIX

There are times when torture of the body heals the suffering of the
mind, and times when mental agony blots out physical pain. But there
are other times when the two run together. It was so with Bob as they
toiled doggedly through that long night across the desert toward the
river. He kept his course by the North Star, and lost little distance
by getting off the compass. It was just daylight when they reached the
river. The stream was bank full--midsummer is high water for the
Colorado--and was very muddy. But its water was more beautiful than
jasper seas to those four men.

After they had drunk and cooled themselves in it, they crawled under a
clump of willows beside the road to rest through the day. Bob had just
stretched out on his back and covered his face with a handkerchief,
ready to sleep, when a chuck-chuck and a grinding noise came down the
road. He was up instantly, and so were the three Mexicans.

"A machine!" they exclaimed. Relief! They would not have to walk that
other twenty miles.

The deep chug of the engine indicated a powerful machine pulling
heavily. It was coming rather slowly. The road was hidden by miles of
rank wild hemp; but directly the machine came round a curve.

It was a motor truck loaded high with cotton bales!

Bob's heart beat quick. They were in time to save at least part of it,
after all.

The captain bristled. Here was work to do, authority to display. He
stepped into the middle of the road, put his hand on his gun, and gave
a ringing call to halt.

The Mexican driver came to a sudden stop. He knew _el capitan_. And
whatever faults may be attributed to the governor of Baja Cal