ather was coming
on; he had been hungry and shelterless and ill-clad--one of those bits
of flotsam which drift into our towns and stand dejectedly upon our
street-corners when they do not prowl down alleys to the back doors of
our restaurants in the hope of being permitted to wash the soiled dishes
of more fortunate men for the food which diners have left beside their
plates. Luck had fed Bill Holmes, and he had given him work to do and
the best food and shelter he could afford; and for thanks, Bill had--as
Luck believed--made sly, dishonest love to Annie-Many-Ponies, for whose
physical and moral welfare Luck would be held responsible. Bill had
deliberately chosen to steal rather than work for honest wages, and had
preferred the unstable friendship of Ramon Chavez to the cleaner life
in Luck's company. He did not credit Bill Holmes with anything stronger
than a weak-souled treachery. Ramon, he told himself while he made his
way down the arroyo side, was at least working out a clever scheme of
his own, and it rested with Luck and his posse to see that Ramon was
cheated of success.

So deeply was he engrossed that before he realized it he was down where
they had left Applehead's party. There was no sign of them anywhere, so
Luck went down and mounted his horse and led the way down the arroyo.

Already the heat was lessening and the land was taking on those
translucent opal tints which make of New Mexico a land of enchantment.
The far hills enveloped themselves in a faint, purplish haze through
which they seemed to blush unwittingly. The mesa, no longer showing
itself an and waste of heat and untracked wilderness, lay soft under a
thin veil of many ethereal tints. Away off to the northeast they heard
the thin, vague clamor of a band of sheep and the staccato barking of a
dog.

Luck rode for some distance, his uneasiness growing as the shadows
deepened with the setting of the sun. They had gone too far to hear
any whistled signal, but it seemed to him reasonable to suppose that
Applehead would return to their starting point, whether he found the
trail or not; or at least send a man back. Luck began to think more
seriously of Applehead's numerous warnings about the Indians--and yet,
there had been no sound of shooting, which is the first sign of trouble
in this country. Rifle shots can be heard a long way in this clear air;
so Luck presently dismissed that worry and gave his mind to the very
real one which assailed them a