He
had his field-glass, but did not choose to use it.

"Rojas will follow," said Mercedes.

Gale regarded her in amaze. The tone of her voice had been
indefinable. If there were fear then he failed to detect it. She was
gazing back down the colored slope, and something about her, perhaps
the steady, falcon gaze of her magnificent eyes, reminded him of Yaqui.

Many times during the ensuing hour the Indian faced about, and always
his followers did likewise. It was high noon, with the sun beating hot
and the lava radiating heat, when Yaqui halted for a rest. The place
selected was a ridge of lava, almost a promontory, considering its
outlook. The horses bunched here and drooped their heads. The rangers
were about to slip the packs and remove saddles when Yaqui restrained
them.

He fixed a changeless, gleaming gaze on the slow descent; but did not
seem to look afar.

Suddenly he uttered his strange cry--the one Gale considered
involuntary, or else significant of some tribal trait or feeling. It
was incomprehensible, but no one could have doubted its potency. Yaqui
pointed down the lava slope, pointed with finger and arm and neck and
head--his whole body was instinct with direction. His whole being
seemed to have been animated and then frozen. His posture could not
have been misunderstood, yet his expression had not altered. Gale had
never seen the Indian's face change its hard, red-bronze calm. It was
the color and the flintiness and the character of the lava at his feet.

"Shore he sees somethin'," said Ladd. "But my eyes are not good."

"I reckon I ain't sure of mine," replied Jim. "I'm bothered by a dim
movin' streak down there."

Thorne gazed eagerly down as he stood beside Mercedes, who sat
motionless facing the slope. Gale looked and looked till he hurt his
eyes. Then he took his glass out of its case on Sol's saddle.

There appeared to be nothing upon the lava but the innumerable dots of
choya shining in the sun. Gale swept his glass slowly forward and
back. Then into a nearer field of vision crept a long white-and-black
line of horses and men. Without a word he handed the glass to Ladd.
The ranger used it, muttering to himself.

"They're on the lava fifteen miles down in an air line," he said,
presently. "Jim, shore they're twice that an' more accordin' to the
trail."

Jim had his look and replied: "I reckon we're a day an' a night in the
lead."

"Is it Rojas?" burst out Thorne