r many horses;
the arroyo was indeed an oasis.

Ladd and the others were awaiting Gale's report, and they received it
with calmness, yet with a joy no less evident because it was
restrained. Gale, in his keen observation at the moment, found that he
and his comrades turned with glad eyes to the woman of the party.

"Senor Laddy, you think--you believe--we shall--" she faltered, and her
voice failed. It was the woman in her, weakening in the light of real
hope, of the happiness now possible beyond that desert barrier.

"Mercedes, no white man can tell what'll come to pass out here," said
Ladd, earnestly. "Shore I have hopes now I never dreamed of. I was
pretty near a dead man. The Indian saved me. Queer notions have come
into my head about Yaqui. I don't understand them. He seems when you
look at him only a squalid, sullen, vengeful savage. But Lord! that's
far from the truth. Mebbe Yaqui's different from most Indians. He
looks the same, though. Mebbe the trouble is we white folks never knew
the Indian. Anyway, Beldin' had it right. Yaqui's our godsend. Now as
to the future, I'd like to know mebbe as well as you if we're ever to
get home. Only bein' what I am, I say, Quien sabe? But somethin'
tells me Yaqui knows. Ask him, Mercedes. Make him tell. We'll all be
the better for knowin'. We'd be stronger for havin' more'n our faith in
him. He's silent Indian, but make him tell."

Mercedes called to Yaqui. At her bidding there was always a suggestion
of hurry, which otherwise was never manifest in his actions. She put a
hand on his bared muscular arm and began to speak in Spanish. Her voice
was low, swift, full of deep emotion, sweet as the sound of a bell. It
thrilled Gale, though he understood scarcely a word she said. He did
not need translation to know that here spoke the longing of a woman for
life, love, home, the heritage of a woman's heart.

Gale doubted his own divining impression. It was that the Yaqui
understood this woman's longing. In Gale's sight the Indian's
stoicism, his inscrutability, the lavalike hardness of his face,
although they did not change, seemed to give forth light, gentleness,
loyalty. For an instant Gale seemed to have a vision; but it did not
last, and he failed to hold some beautiful illusive thing.

"Si!" rolled out the Indian's reply, full of power and depth.

Mercedes drew a long breath, and her hand sought Thorne's.

"He says yes," she whispered. "He answer