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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Well, something may turn up to enable us to serve his mother. Let us go to bed." Next morning we were again on the road by starlight. A march of sixteen miles brought us to Agua Fria cold water. Less than a hundred yards west of the spring was a ridge which did not rise fifty feet above it, and that was the "backbone" of the continent.
"It's bad luck, the very worst sort of luck, to launch a boat without christening her in the approved manner," Nelly Abbott declared. "I insist on being sponsor. Do let me, Jack." So the new sixty-footer had a bottle of wine from the Abbott cellar broken over her brass-bound stemhead as her bows sliced into the salt water, and Nelly's clear treble chanted: "I christen thee Agua Blanco."
"We'll soon overtake 'em," old Mike Train muttered, savagely twirling the cylinder of his ancient .45. "Blacksnake's gang can't make fast time with those steers. He's probably drivin' 'em to Gentleman John's headquarters at Agua Frio." "Why," asked Kid Wolf slowly, "do they call that hombre 'Blacksnake'?" "Because he carries one with him that's how he got his name," spoke up Lefty Warren.
The little command set out apparently for the river home of Don Ramon, distant nearly a hundred miles. After darkness had set in, the captain of the squad cut his already small command in two, sending a lieutenant with four men to proceed by way of Agua Dulce ranch, the remainder continuing on to the river. The captain refused them even pack horse or blanket, allowing them only their arms.
There was said to be a big underground run at Agua Fria that could be pumped at little expense. "All I can make out of Prather's taking a straight line, which really is slower, as you know, on account of the heavy sand in places, is to look over the soil," said Galway. "He may be preparing to get a concession in Mexico at the same time as on this side, so as to secure control of the whole valley.
"Will you kill the Irishman, or shall I?" Guilford's lips move, but there is no audible reply; and Bucks takes Danforth's weapon and passes quickly and alone to the forward vestibule. The station of Agua Caliente swings into the field of 1010's electric headlight.
I knew from his look when he set out for Agua Fria that he was under a terrible strain; a strain worse than that of a few hours' battle the kind that had been weighing day after day on the will that grimly sustained its weight. And that wound in the head was very close, very, and it came at the moment when he collapsed in reaction after that last telling shot. Something snapped then.
Then, as children will, we began to speculate on what should follow for us. "When I get older I'm going to be a freighter like Jondo, Bill and me. We'll kill every Indian who dares to yell along the trail. I'm going back to Santa Fé and kill that boy that stared at me like he was crazy one day at Agua Fria."
If the old man is absent scenery, you wave your bandanna real industrious. If he is at home, give Laura the tip and she'll know where to find me." The owner of the ranch, as it happened, was cutting trail over by Agua Caliente. "Do you want to see him very bad, Mr. Flandrau?" asked Miss Laura demurely. "My friends call me Curly." "I meant to say Curly." "That's what I thought.
Station Schofield is passed, and again the signals, if any there be, are swiftly drowned in the gray dust-smother. From Schofield to Agua Caliente is but a scant ten miles; and as the flying train rushes on toward the State boundary, two faces in the quartet of watchers show tense and drawn under the yellow light of the Pintsch platform lamp.
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