off with Thorne in his arms he felt
the tax on his strength. Surely and swiftly, however, he bore the
cavalryman down the trail to lay him beside Ladd. Again he started
back, and when he began to mount the steep lava steps he was hot, wet,
breathing hard. As he reached the scene of that night's camp a voice
greeted him. Jim Lash was sitting up.

"Hello, Dick. I woke some late this mornin'. Where's Laddy? Dick,
you ain't a-goin' to say--"

"Laddy's alive--that's about all," replied Dick.

"Where's Thorne an' Mercedes? Look here, man. I reckon you ain't
packin' this crippled outfit down that awful trail?"

"Had to, Jim. An hour's sun--would kill--both Laddy and Thorne. Come
on now."

For once Jim Lash's cool good nature and careless indifference gave
precedence to amaze and concern.

"Always knew you was a husky chap. But, Dick, you're no hoss! Get me a
crutch an' give me a lift on one side."

"Come on," replied Gale. "I've no time to monkey."

He lifted the ranger, called to Yaqui to follow with some of the camp
outfit, and once more essayed the steep descent. Jim Lash was the
heaviest man of the three, and Gale's strength was put to enormous
strain to carry him on that broken trail. Nevertheless, Gale went down,
down, walking swiftly and surely over the bad places; and at last he
staggered into the arroyo with bursting heart and red-blinded eyes.
When he had recovered he made a final trip up the slope for the camp
effects which Yaqui had been unable to carry.

Then he drew Jim and Mercedes and Yaqui, also, into an earnest
discussion of ways and means whereby to fight for the life of Thorne.
Ladd's case Gale now considered hopeless, though he meant to fight for
him, too, as long as he breathed.

In the labor of watching and nursing it seemed to Gale that two days
and two nights slipped by like a few hours. During that time the
Indian recovered from his injury, and became capable of performing all
except heavy tasks. Then Gale succumbed to weariness. After his
much-needed rest he relieved Mercedes of the care and watch over Thorne
which, up to that time, she had absolutely refused to relinquish. The
cavalryman had high fever, and Gale feared he had developed blood
poisoning. He required constant attention. His condition slowly grew
worse, and there came a day which Gale thought surely was the end. But
that day passed, and the night, and the next day, and Thorne lived on,
ghastly, stricken