"Keep a-going!" prompted Hooker, as Gracia leaned back to check her horse. "Down into the gulch there—them rurales are liable to shoot yet!"
The final dash brought them to cover, but as Bud leaped down and took Gracia in his arms the roan spread his feet, trembled, and dropped heavily to the ground.
"He'll be all right," soothed Bud, as Gracia still clung to his arm. Then, as he saw her gaze fixed beyond him, he turned and beheld Philip De Lancey.
It was the same Phil, the same man Bud had called pardner, and yet when Hooker saw him there he stiffened and his face grew hard.
"Well?" he said, slowly detaching Gracia's fingers and putting her hand away.
As Phil ran forward to greet them he stepped sullenly off to one side. What they said he did not know, for his mind was suddenly a blank; but when Phil rushed over and wrung his hand he came back to earth with a start.
"Bud!" cried De Lancey ecstatically, "how can I ever thank you enough? You brought her back to me, didn't you, old man? Thank God, you're safe—I've been watching for you with glasses ever since I heard you had started! I knew you would do it, pardner; you're the best friend a man ever had! But—say, come over here a minute—I want to speak to you."
He led Hooker off to one side, while Gracia watched them with jealous eyes, and lowered his voice as he spoke.
"It was awful good of you, Bud," he whispered, "but I'm afraid you've got in bad! The whole town is crazy about it. Old Aragon came up on the first train, and now they've wired that you killed Del Rey. By Jove, Bud! wasn't that pulling it a little strong? Captain of the rurales, you know—the whole Mexican government is behind him—and Aragon wants you for kidnapping!"
"What's that?" demanded Gracia, as she heard her own name spoken.