, loping across the
break, and on out again at a run, nose down to earth: a blot against
the sky; the burned out sulphur sky above an earth of embers and ashes.
Was it a mirage; or was he going delirious; or had he fallen asleep to
dream her face framed in the blur of the purpling haze, receding from
him, drawing him with the shine of the stars in her eyes, drawing him
with the warmth of their first passion kiss on her lips? He would rise
from his grave, and follow her from death, if she wove such spells,
whether of dreams or delirium or mirage! The Ranger found himself
stumbling across the baked silt and lava rocks, stripped of his hat and
his boots, stripped like a marathon runner, vaguely conscious that he
ought to have kept those tea leaves for that burn in his eyes, that the
silver strip of the mountain was there just ahead; now a crystal pool
of the cool mountain lake in mid air; now her face had vanished into
the blue haze. Suddenly, winged things flappered up with raucous
protest. The coyote had skulked over the edge of the lava dip; not the
burnt-oil earth-scorched Desert smell, but the shrivelled putridity of
flesh smote and nauseated his senses. The white pack horse of the
outlaw drovers lay dead across the trail at his feet, a pool of clotted
blood darkening the ashy sand. Its throat had been cut. . . .

The Ranger drew off, rubbed his eyes and looked again. The crumbly
silt had been trampled all round the dead horse. So they, too, were
dying of thirst on the Desert. Which way to follow now? There were
the hoof prints across the open level; but forking from the main trail
was another track: that of a man dragged or dragging or crawling
forward on his hands and knees. Had they deserted the third man; or
had the third man dropped back from them to cut his horse's throat?
The Ranger laughed aloud, a harsh cracked laugh; he knew he was
delirious. The Lord had played an ace and he wouldn't trump His trick
by going after the trail of the man who had crawled away to die. There
was a Deity of retribution at least, whether God or demon: he had vowed
he would make those blackguards drink horse blood!

If he hounded along the trail, perhaps he might overhaul the other two.
Then, then if he did perish in the Desert, he would not have perished
for naught! It was then, the earth performed the acrobatic feat of
heaving up, and he fell! This time, he knew he had fallen. It was no
trip. He was down and out