and Concho and a decrepit
mule or two, all under the surly surveillance of Sergeant Feeny and half
a dozen troopers whose comrades were afield chasing banditti through the
deserts and mountains, while those who were detailed to remain spent
long, anxious hours watching over and striving to soothe a young officer
delirious from injuries to the head and resultant fever. Loring a sick
man, indeed, when the surgeon reached him; but poor Blake, wearing
himself down to skin and bone in fruitless chase, would gladly have been
in his place.

The stage which he and his men had rushed to rescue was actually out
there to the east, as Pancha had declared, "held up" among some little
sand dunes, but it bore neither passengers nor treasure, and what on
earth the robbers should have detained him for nearly twenty miles east
of Gila Bend--held him in the hot sun from nine in the morning until
late in the afternoon, then sent him on again, only to be once more
"rounded to" with a furious chorus of yells and volleyings of pistols
when within only two miles of Sancho's, that bewildered Jehu could not
imagine. The marvel of it was that, though the old stage was "riddled
like a sieve," as he said, "and bullets flew round me like a swarm of
buzzin' bees, not one of 'em more'n just nipped me and raised a blister
in the skin." Indeed, even those abrasions were indistinguishable,
though Jake solemnly believed in their existence. Then another queer
thing! Long before the lieutenant and "his fellers" reached the
imperiled vehicle all but two or three of the dozen assailants went
scurrying off in the darkness, and when the cavalry came charging
furiously through the gloom there was no one to oppose them. Jehu Jake
couldn't even tell which way the bandits had gone--every way, he
reckoned; and after careering blindly about for half an hour or so,
Blake's most energetic men came drifting back and said it was useless to
attempt pursuit until dawn, even though that would give the renegades
six hours' start. Slowly and disgustedly Blake ordered his men to form
ranks and march back to camp, when suddenly an idea struck him--Loring!
Loring, with his precious saddle-bags, had been left alone; and, calling
for a set of fours to follow him, Blake clapped his spurless heels to
his indignant horse's flanks and galloped for home, only to find Sancho
and Pete lamenting over the prostrate, senseless and bleeding form of
the engineer, whose arm was still thrown p