tarted him. This time no horse or mule had
disappeared, but the tracks of two quadrupeds were found on the Mesa
coming from "Rat Hell," as Captain Post, who had done time in Libby,
named the gambling ranch outside the reservation--to a point within one
hundred yards of the corral, and thence bore away southward straight as
the flight of the crow. Two reprobates in the captain's company declared
that the black-bearded clerk arrested with Nevins, but released because
he was a civilian over whom the military had no jurisdiction, had been
over at the ranch all the previous day. Sentry Poague frankly admitted
that he had heard horses' hoofs out on the Mesa and voices in the
captain's tent, but saw nobody crossing his post and couldn't be
expected to in the pitchy darkness. Whither Nevins went was therefore a
matter that could only be conjectured in the light of later events. How
he went was a matter of little moment. It was good riddance to bad
rubbish, said Starke, until at last the next mail came from Sancho's.
For nearly five days the major declared himself content if he never saw
Nevins again. Then he turned to and prayed with all his soul that he
might catch him--if only for five minutes.

CHAPTER VIII.

It was two long days' cavalry march from Sancho's to Camp Cooke, and
many a time it had taken three. Midway, very nearly, the Hassayampa
emptied its feeble tribute into the murky Gila. There was water enough,
such as it was, for man and beast along the way, but, except in the
winter months, both man and beast preferred the night hours for the
journey. In order to provide mounts for the three officers Blake had
left as many of his men at Cooke, and pushed ahead with the veteran
president two hours before the dawn. That his march was watched from
afar by mounted men he knew as soon as the sun rose upon his pathway,
but Blake's only concern was that they kept at respectful distance. Not
more than half a dozen did he see, and these were as single scouts or in
pairs. He felt little anxiety for Turnbull and Loring; they, too, were
well guarded. The only thing he hated about the whole affair was having
to dismount any of his men, but there were only two ambulances at Cooke,
one was undergoing repairs and, the inspector being present, the post
surgeon wisely protested against the other being sent to the distant
south. It was the plan of the party to ride leisurely to Sancho's, there
to await the coming of the stage, wh