long that stiff ascent took him he never knew, but at
last he reached the summit and crept over its cactus-covered shoulder.

He looked into a valley dressed in its young spring garb. Of all deserts
this is the loveliest when the early rains have given rebirth to the hope
that stirs within its bosom once a year. But the tenderfoot saw nothing of
its pathetic promise, of its fragile beauty so soon to be blasted. His
sunken eyes swept the scene and found at first only a desert waste in
which lay death.

"I lose," he said to himself out loud.

With the words he gave up the long struggle and sank to the ground. For
hours he had been exhausted to the limit of endurance, but the will to
live had kept him going. Now the driving force within had run down. He
would die where he lay.

Another instant, and he was on his feet again eager, palpitant, tremulous.
For plainly there had come to him the bleating of a calf.

Moving to the left, he saw rising above the hill brow a thin curl of
smoke. A dozen staggering steps brought him to the edge of a draw. There
in the hollow below, almost within a stone's throw, was a young woman
bending over a fire. He tried to call, but his swollen tongue and dry
throat refused the service. Instead, he began to run toward her.

Beyond the wash was a dead cow. Not far from it lay a calf on its side,
all four feet tied together. From the fire the young woman took a red-hot
running iron and moved toward the little bleater.

The crackling of a twig brought her around as a sudden tight rein does a
high-strung horse. The man had emerged from the prickly pears and was
close upon her. His steps dragged. The sag of his shoulders indicated
extreme fatigue. The dark hollows beneath the eyes told of days of
torment.

The girl stood before him slender and straight. She was pale to the lips.
Her breath came fast and ragged as if she had been running.

Abruptly she shot her challenge at him. "Who are you?"

"Water," he gasped.

One swift, searching look the girl gave him, then "Wait!" she ordered, and
was off into the mesquit on the run. Three minutes later the tenderfoot
heard her galloping through the brush. With a quick, tight rein she drew
up, swung from the saddle expertly as a _vaquero_, and began to untie a
canteen held by buckskin thongs to the side of the saddle.

He drank long, draining the vessel to the last drop.

From her saddle bags she brought two sandwiches wrapped in oiled paper.

"