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The many painful welts of the lash's stripes stung him with keen pain. "O mother! mother!" Timokles' heart cried silently. Had she indeed lost all love for him, since she had told him she wished he had died rather than become a Christian? "Lord Christ," cried Timokles' breaking heart now, "I have left all for thee!" The company pushed on rapidly.
The raiders split, one making for the eastern outlet, the other circling back of the mesquites. Ladd kept on after the latter. Then puffs of white smoke and rifle shots faintly crackling told Jim Lash's hand in the game. However, he succeeded only in driving the raider back into the valley.
Recovery for Thorne was now possible, and would perhaps depend entirely upon the care he received. Jim Lash's wound healed without any aggravating symptoms. It would be only a matter of time until he had the use of his leg again. All these days, however, there was little apparent change in Ladd's condition unless it was that he seemed to fade away as he lingered.
"Laddy's alive that's about all," replied Dick. "Where's Thorne an' Mercedes? Look here, man. I reckon you ain't packin' this crippled outfit down that awful trail?" "Had to, Jim. An hour's sun would kill both Laddy and Thorne. Come on now." For once Jim Lash's cool good nature and careless indifference gave precedence to amaze and concern. "Always knew you was a husky chap.
Belding returned home without going to see the Chases and their operations. He wanted to think over the situation. Next morning he went out to the valley to see for himself. Mexicans were hastily erecting adobe houses upon Ladd's one hundred and sixty acres, upon Dick Gale's, upon Jim Lash's and Thorne's. There were men staking the valley floor and the river bed. That was sufficient for Belding.
At the same instant he seemed to hear Thorne cry out and fall, and Lash's boots scrape rapidly away. Ladd fell backward still holding the .405. Gale dragged him into the shelter of his own position, and dreading to look at him, took up the heavy weapon. It was with a kind of savage strength that he gripped the rifle; and it was with a cold and deadly intent that he aimed and fired.
Early on the morning of the second day, Gale, who had acquired an unbreakable habit of watching, saw three white horses and a bay come wearily stepping down the road. He heard Blanco Sol's familiar whistle, and he leaped up wild with joy. The horse was riderless. Gale's sudden joy received a violent check, then resurged when he saw a limp white form in Jim Lash's arms.
Lash's voice died away in a husky whisper, and he quietly lay back, stretching out all but the crippled leg. Gale examined it, assured himself the bones had not been broken, and then rose ready to go down the trail. "Mercedes, hold Thorne's head up, in your lap so. Now I'll go." On the moment Yaqui appeared to have completed the binding of his wounded shoulder, and he started to follow Gale.
The firing had become desultory, and the light carbine shots outnumbered the sharp rifle shots five to one. Gale made a note of the fact that for some little time he had not heard the unmistakable report of Jim Lash's automatic. Then ensued a long interval in which the desert silence seemed to recover its grip. The .405 ripped it asunder spang spang spang. Gale fancied he heard yells.
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