. An' Benito, he'll arrange that."

"If he lives." Drew closed his eyes wearily. His face was one bruised ache
where Shannon's blow had landed, and his side was constant pain.

"You'll see," Shannon promised. "We've got us a big ace in th' hole--th'
Range boys don't know as how I'm with Kitchell, not yet. That's how we
took you so easy back to th' water hole. I jus' rode up to Jose--got that
there Pima listenin' to me till Lutterfield sneaked up an' put him outta
business. Lutterfield, he don't look much, but he was runnin' in this
country with th' Injuns thirty years ago. He's got th' Apaches lissenin'
to him good. An' I can talk us through th' posses--maybe even into th'
Stronghold later."

"You're a clever man, Shannon," Drew commented dryly.

"An' you're too free with that lip!" Drew's head rocked under a stinging
slap which made fiery wheels of pain roll in his head. He must have been
sent very close to the edge of unconsciousness for a moment or two.

"That's 'nough, Johnny," said Sergeant Wayne. "Th' Colonel says to keep
him ready to move. You battin' him 'round like that don't do no good."

So Topham had been right--Johnny Shannon was Kitchell's man. Not that it
mattered now. Even if, by some miracle, Drew could get away from this pack
of wolves, he had no idea of where he was or which way to go. One man
alone and lost in this country faced death as certain as the bullet Johnny
Shannon had already loaded for him. There was only one thing--he was still
alive, and as long as a man lived he had hope.

Nye and Greyfeather had trailed this bunch from the water hole. Perhaps
the wind and sand storms had muddled the tracks, but Drew still had faith
in the Pima. And Rennie's party had followed with the knowledge of the
Mexican's bolt hole to the south. Why, right now they could have circled
ahead--could be waiting for Kitchell again as they had at the pass. An
attack could give him a thin chance of escape. He had best keep his mouth
shut and not provoke Shannon, maybe feign being more helpless than he was.

The outlaws had difficulty in getting the Mexican on his horse when they
were ready to move on in the evening. Drew, seeing the man's swollen face,
his half-closed, set eyes, thought he was in high fever, probably no
longer conscious. Kitchell ought to have sense enough to know Benito might
not last out the night. But it was plain they were now pushed for time.

They had been on the way for a while before Drew