he must come this way."

"If he hasn't gone already!"

"There is no sign," Teodoro repeated stubbornly.

"So we keep on ahead." Drew got down on both knees, splashed the muddy
water-hole liquid into his face in an effort to clear his head.

They had changed mounts twice since leaving the camp, both times at the
water forts on the Range. And the second time they had chanced three
hours' sleep and a hot meal. But the rest of the time it was ride, chew on
jerky and cold tortillas, and depend on Teodoro's sense of direction to
take them eventually to their goal--the outlaws' gate into Mexico. Drew had
long since stopped looking over his shoulder for any thundering advance of
cavalry. If Bayliss was hunting the fugitives, he was not pushing the pace
too hard.

"Not ahead, no." Teodoro drank from his cupped hand. "We go so...." He
sketched a gesture east.

"Why?"

"It is never well to be shot by one's friends." The mustanger achieved a
half smile, stretching the skin of his gaunt young face. "Always it is
better to see before being seen."

When they started he led the way to the left at a walk. Drew, aroused now,
looked about him carefully. This was rough country cut by pinnacles of red
and yellow rock, backed by the purple ridges of the greater heights. It
was desert land, too. They had long since left the abundance of the valley
behind them. Here was the stiff angularity of cactus, the twisted
vegetation of an arid land.

The crack of a carbine shattered the empty silence. Drew pulled on reins
as a second shot dug up a spurt of dust just beyond Teodoro's mount.

"Hold it! Right there."

That disembodied voice could have come from anywhere, but Drew thought it
was from above and behind. Someone, holed up in the rocks, had them as
perfect targets. The Kentuckian did not try to turn his head; there was no
use giving the sharpshooter an excuse.

"All right, you...." The voice was hollow, its timbre distorted by echo.
"Throw off your guns an' git down ... one at a time ... th' Mex first."

Drew watched Teodoro slide out of the saddle.

"Stand away from that hoss ... easy now."

The mustanger obeyed.

"Now you ... do jus' like him."

Drew followed instructions carefully.

"Hands up--high! Now turn around."

They turned. A figure had detached itself from among the rocks they had
passed moments earlier and came down toward them carbine ready.

"Anse!" Drew stumbled toward the Texan. The other's hat was gone