“We can get horses and men at Wheeler’s,” he said quickly. “It ought not to take an hour to raise a posse. We can telephone the sheriff from the ranch. Come on.”
He started toward the door but the calm voice of the Indian checked him.
“You forget. This is no time for you to meet the sheriff. No one but Doctor Burton and his mother must know of this, until you are safe out of the country.”
“I am a fool, Natachee, I forgot. Tell me what to do.”
For a moment the Indian again bent over the unconscious man on the bed, then he said:
“We cannot leave Thad like this. He must have a doctor. I am going to bring the Burtons. While I am away, you must not leave the old man’s side. He might regain consciousness for a moment and you must be ready to hear anything that he can tell you. And keep your eye on that Mexican snake out there in the other room. He is the kind that may try something desperate to keep Thad from ever speaking again, for the old prospector is the only one who can tell us exactly what happened here last night. Do you understand?”
“I do,” returned Hugh. “You can trust me.”
A moment later the Indian was running up the cañon trail toward the little white house on the mountain side.
Two hours later Natachee returned with Saint Jimmy and Mother Burton, who were riding and carrying on their horses a supply of food.
While Doctor Burton with his mother and Hugh were doing all that could be done for Thad and for the wounded Mexican, Natachee, with the swiftness and certainty of a well-bred hunting dog, examined every foot of the ground in the vicinity of the house, the barn and the corral.