It was almost time for the next period and so the girls made their way to their classrooms.
CHAPTER XII
Indian Jim's Lucky Strike
With the reader's permission we shall turn our attention to Tom Marshall who was returning to Mexico at the time we last heard of him. He had left his Indian partner prospecting there, for both of them had hopes in the possibilities of the mine despite its apparent fruitlessness.
There was a warm friendship between the two men who had grown to know each other in their solitude. It was the Indian who had urged Tom to make his trip home and who had insisted that the latter take most of their small capital on hand for his expenses.
His return was at best a weary trip. He had left the train at El Paso, then had made his way westward and at a lonely point had crossed over into Mexico. Despite the outlaw bands everywhere he had no trouble on the way, although he had been on the road for over two weeks.
He had now quickened his pace for he was on the last lap. His weariness fell from him like a discarded mantle. In his heart was a great eagerness to see his friend and still a hope that he had proved successful. A rather vague hope—for the man's optimism which had always been strong, in the last few years had received some severe jolts.
At last he could see their hut. He could make out the figure of the Indian carrying water toward it. He hastened his step.
The keen ear of the Indian must have heard him, for he suddenly stood erect and with his eyes shaded by his left hand he searched the road. Then he saw Marshall approaching. He watched him for a moment, motionless, without any semblance of feeling. Then suddenly he answered the waving, shouting greeting of his partner with a whoop and no less swiftly and eagerly hurried forward to meet him.
"Hello, Tom, I'm glad to see you."