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Updated: June 3, 2025
That is why he is a born traveller. He has been with me from Colorado to Chihuahua, on all my wanderings back and forth." While he spoke, Firio mounted Wrath of God and, with Jag Ear's bells jingling, the supply division set out on the road. Jack and Mary followed, this time riding side by side, pony nose to pony nose, in an intimacy of association impossible in the narrow mountain trail.
"Do you think that they are out of the sand?" asked Jack. "Very near," Firio answered. "Their ponies had a whole night's rest we must not forget that," said Jack; "and they must be in a hurry, for certainly Nogales had sense enough to rest over noon." "Quien sabe!" answered Firio. "But we catch them sí, sí!"
It is a terrible strain on him, but the only thing is to go on!" the doctor kept repeating. But when Jack lay white and still in his bedroom and Firio was rapidly convalescing, the fever refused to abate. It seemed bound to burn out the life that remained after the hemorrhage from his wounds had ceased. Men found it hard to work in the fields while they waited on the crisis.
To Jack the hour palpably brought a reminder of the misery of the moment when a thing long postponed must at last be performed. The softness of speculative fancy faded from his face. His lips tightened in a way that seemed to bring his chin into prominence in mastery of his being. As he called Firio, his voice unusually high-pitched, he did not look out at P.D. and Wrath of God and Jag Ear.
He had not wanted coffee on the road, yet coffee served with the crisp odor of bacon accompanying its aroma, after his bath and return to ranch clothes, found no appetite. He was as a man whose mind cannot hold fast to anything that he is doing. Firio, restless, worried, his eyes flicking covert glances, was frequently in and out of the living-room on one excuse or another.
"Never the trail again?" he asked temptingly, one day. "Never the trail again!" Jack declared firmly. "Sí, sí, sí the trail again!" "You think so? Then why do you ask?" "To make a question," answered Firio. "The big sadness will be too strong. It will make you move sí!" "The big sadness!" Jack exclaimed.
Prather inquired hectically, with a momentary qualm of shame. "Why, if Firio and I are to have water to make coffee for breakfast we must take the water-hole!" Jack answered, as if this were a thing of minor importance beside seeing Prather safely on his way.
Jack suddenly raised his hands from Firio's shoulders in a gesture of interruption. It was not exactly Firio's place to hazard opinions about Mary Ewold. "Never mind!" he said, rather sharply. But Firio proceeded fixedly to finish what he had to say. "She has a big sadness, which makes her ride to the pass. She rides out so she can ride back smiling."
"Firio, we're ready to hear Jag Ear's bells!" he called. "Sí!" answered Firio. All the while the Indian had kept in the shadow, away from the spray of light from the store lamp, unaware of the rapid drama that had passed among the boxes and barrels. He had observed nothing unusual in the young lady, whose outward manifestation of what she had, witnessed was the closing of her eyes.
Then I shall be a real rancher and something is going to happen!" "The trail!" exclaimed Firio, and the soft light in his eyes flashed. "Sí! The trail and the big spurs and the revolver in the holster!" "No!" But Firio said "Sí"! with the supreme confidence of one who holds that belief in fulfilment will make any wish come true.
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