the Yaqui's spirit that held back death. That
tireless, implacable, inscrutable savage was ever at the ranger's side.
His great somber eyes burned. At length he went to Gale, and, with
that strange light flitting across the hard bronzed face, he said Ladd
would live.

The second day after Ladd had been given such thin nourishment as he
could swallow he recovered the use of his tongue.

"Shore--this's--hell," he whispered.

That was a characteristic speech for the ranger, Gale thought; and
indeed it made all who heard it smile while their eyes were wet.

From that time forward Ladd gained, but he gained so immeasurably
slowly that only the eyes of hope could have seen any improvement. Jim
Lash threw away his crutch, and Thorne was well, if still somewhat
weak, before Ladd could lift his arm or turn his head. A kind of long,
immovable gloom passed, like a shadow, from his face. His whispers
grew stronger. And the day arrived when Gale, who was perhaps the
least optimistic, threw doubt to the winds and knew the ranger would
get well. For Gale that joyous moment of realization was one in which
he seemed to return to a former self long absent. He experienced an
elevation of soul. He was suddenly overwhelmed with gratefulness,
humility, awe. A gloomy black terror had passed by. He wanted to
thank the faithful Mercedes, and Thorne for getting well, and the
cheerful Lash, and Ladd himself, and that strange and wonderful Yaqui,
now such a splendid figure. He thought of home and Nell. The terrible
encompassing red slopes lost something of their fearsomeness, and there
was a good spirit hovering near.

"Boys, come round," called Ladd, in his low voice. "An' you, Mercedes.
An' call the Yaqui."

Ladd lay in the shade of the brush shelter that had been erected. His
head was raised slightly on a pillow. There seemed little of him but
long lean lines, and if it had not been for his keen, thoughtful,
kindly eyes, his face would have resembled a death mask of a man
starved.

"Shore I want to know what day is it an' what month?" asked Ladd.

Nobody could answer him. The question seemed a surprise to Gale, and
evidently was so to the others.

"Look at that cactus," went on Ladd.

Near the wall of lava a stunted saguaro lifted its head. A few
shriveled blossoms that had once been white hung along the fluted
column.

"I reckon according to that giant cactus it's somewheres along the end
of March," said Jim