de Glace in stone.

An error of direction once committed, the enemy would not give them time
to retrieve it, and they would be slaughtered like mad dogs with the foam
on their mouths.

Thurstane remembered that it would be his terrible duty in the last
extremity to send a bullet through the heart of the woman he worshipped,
rather than let her fall into the hands of brutes who would only grant her
a death of torture and dishonor. Even his steady soul failed for a moment,
and tears of desperation gathered in his eyes. For the first time in years
he looked up to heaven and prayed fervently.

From the unknown destiny ahead he turned to look for the fate which
pursued. Walking with Coronado to the brink of the colossal terrace, and
sheltering himself from the view of the rest of the party, he scanned the
trail with his glass. The dark line had now become a series of dark
specks, more than a hundred and fifty in number, creeping along the arid
floor of the lower plateau, and reminding him of venomous insects.

"They are not five miles from us," shuddered the Mexican. "Cursed beasts!
Devils of hell!"

"They have this hill to climb," said Thurstane, "and, if I am not
mistaken, they will have to halt here, as we have done. Their ponies must
be pretty well fagged by this time."

"They will get a last canter out of them," murmured Coronado. His soul was
giving way under his hardships, and it would have been a solace to him to
weep aloud. As it was, he relieved himself with a storm of blasphemies.
Oaths often serve to a man as tears do to a woman.

"We must trot now," he said presently.

"Not yet. Not till they are within half a mile of us. We must spare our
wind up to the last minute."

They were interrupted by a cry of surprise and alarm. Several of the
muleteers had strayed to the edge of the declivity, and had discovered
with their unaided eyesight the little cloud of death in the distance.
Texas Smith approached, looked from under his shading hand, muttered a
single curse, walked back to his horse, inspected his girths, and recapped
his rifle. In a minute it was known throughout the train that Apaches were
in the rear. Without a word of direction, and in a gloomy silence which
showed the general despair, the march was resumed. There was a disposition
to force a trot, which was promptly and sternly checked by Thurstane. His
voice was loud and firm; he had instinctively assumed responsibility and
command; no one dispu