There seemed little of him but long lean lines, and if it had not been for his keen, thoughtful, kindly eyes, his face would have resembled a death mask of a man starved.
'Shore I want to know what day is it an' what month?' asked Ladd.
Nobody could answer him. The question seemed a surprise to Gale, and evidently was so to the others.
'Look at that cactus,' went on Ladd.
Near the wall of lava a stunted saguaro lifted its head. A few shriveled blossoms that had once been white hung along the fluted column.
'I reckon according to that giant cactus it's somewheres along the end of March,' said Jim Lash, soberly.
'Shore it's April. Look where the sun is. An' can't you feel it's gettin' hot?'
'Supposin' it is April?' queried Lash slowly.
'Well, what I'm drivin' at is it's about time you all was hittin' the trail back to Forlorn River, before the waterholes dry out.'
'Laddy, I reckon we'll start soon as you're able to be put on a hoss.'
'Shore that 'll be too late.'
A silence ensued, in which those who heard Ladd gazed fixedly at him and then at one another. Lash uneasily shifted the position of his lame leg, and Gale saw him moisten his lips with his tongue.
'Charlie Ladd, I ain't reckonin' you mean we're to ride off an' leave you here?'
'What else is there to do? The hot weather's close. Pretty soon most of the waterholes will be dry. You can't travel then....I'm on my back here, an' God only knows when I could be packed out. Not for weeks, mebbe. I'll never be any good again, even if I was to get out alive....You see, shore this sort of case comes round sometimes in the desert. It's common enough. I've heard of several cases where men had to go an' leave a feller behind. It's reasonable. If you're fightin' the desert you can't afford to be sentimental... Now, as I said, I'm all in. So what's the sense of you waitin' here, when it means the old desert story? By goin' now mebbe you'll get home. If you wait on a chance of takin' me, you'll be too late. Pretty soon this lava 'll be one roastin' hell. Shore now, boys, you'll see this the right way? Jim, old pard?'
'No, Laddy, an' I can't figger how you could ever ask me.'
'Shore then leave me here with Yaqui an' a could of the hosses. We can eat sheep meat. An' if the water holds out–'
'No!' interrupted Lash, violently.
Ladd's eyes sought Gale's face.
'Son, you ain't bull-headed like Jim. You'll see the sense of it. There's Nell a-waitin' back at Forlorn River. Think what it means to her! She's a damn fine girl, Dick, an' what right have you to break her heart for an old worn-out cowpuncher? Think how she's watchin' for you with that sweet face all sad an' troubled, an' her eyes turnin' black. You'll go, son, won't you?'
Dick shook his head.
The ranger turned his gaze upon Thorne, and now the keen, glistening light in his gray eyes had blurred.
'Thorne, it's different with you. Jim's a fool, an' young Gale has been punctured by choya thorns. He's got the desert poison in his blood. But you now–you've no call to stick–you can find that trail out. I'ts easy to follow, made by so many shod hosses. Take your wife an' go....Shore you'll go, Thorne?'
Deliberately and without an instant's hesitation the calvaryman replied 'No.'
Ladd then directed his appeal to Mercedes. His face was now convulsed, and his voice, though it had sunk to a whisper, was clear, and beautiful with some rich quality that Gale had never heard in it.
'Mercedes, you're a woman. You're the woman we fought for. An' some of us are shore goin' to die for you. Don't make it all for nothin'. Let us feel we saved the woman. Shore you can make Thorne go. He'll have to go if you say. They'll all have to go. Think of the years of love an' happiness in store for you. A week or so an' it 'll be too late. Can you stand for me seein' you?...Let me tell you, Mercedes, when the summer heat hits the lava we'll all wither an' curl up like shavin's near a fire. A wind of hell will blow up this slope. Look at them mesquites. See the twist in them. That's the torture of heat an' thirst. Do you want me or all us men seein'you like that?...Mercedes, don't make it all for nothin'. Say you'll persuade Thorne, if not the others.'
For all the effect his appeal had to move her Mercedes might have possessed a heart as hard and fixed as the surrounding lava.
'Never!'
White-faced, with great black eyes flashing, the Spanish girl spoke the word that bound her and her companions in the desert.
The subject was never mentioned again. Gale thought that he read a sinister purpose in Ladd's mind. To his astonishment, Lash came to him with the same fancy. After that they made certain there never was a gun within reach of Ladd's clutching, clawlike hands.
Gradually a somber spell lifted from the ranger's mind. When he was entirely free of it he began to gather strength daily. Then it was as if he had never known patience–he who had shown so well how to wait. He was in a frenzy to get well. He appetite could not be satisfied.
The sun climbed higher, whiter, hotter. At midday a wind from gulfward roared up the arroyo, and now only palos verdes and the few saguaros were green. Every day the water in the lava hole sank an inch.
The Yaqui alone spent the waiting time in activity. He made trips up on the lava slope, and each time he returned with guns or boots or sombreros, or something belonging to the bandits that had fallen. He never fetched in a saddle or bridle, and from that the rangers concluded Rojas's horses had long before taken their back trail. What speculation, what consternation those saddled horses would cause if they returned to Forlorn River!
As Ladd improved there was one story he had to hear every day. It was the one relating to what he had
