In a shallow valley, Waring reined up, unsaddled Dex, and turned him loose. Ramon questioned this. "Turn your horse loose," said Waring. "They'll keep together and find water."
Ramon shook his head, but did as he was told. Wearily he followed Waring as he climbed back to a rocky depression on the crest. Without a word Waring stretched behind a rock and was soon asleep. Ramon wondered at the other's indifference to danger, but fatigue finally overcame him and he slept.
Just before dawn Ramon awakened and touched
Waring. "They are coming!" he whispered.
Waring shook his head. "You hear our horses. The rurales won't ride into this pocket before daylight. Stay right here till I come back."
He rose and worked cautiously down the eastern slope, searching for Dex in the valley. In the gray gloom he saw the outline of his horse grazing alone. He stepped down to him. The big horse raised its head. Waring spoke. Reassured, Dex plodded to his master, who turned and tracked back to the pocket in the rocks. "I think your cayuse has drifted south," he told Ramon.
The young Mexican showed no surprise. He seemed resigned to the situation. "I knew when the señor said to turn my horse loose that he would seek the horses of his kind. He has gone back to the horses of those who follow us."
"You said it" said Waring. "And that's going to bother them. It tells me that the rurales are not far behind. They'll figure that I put you out of business to get rid of you. They'll look for a dead Mexican, and a live gringo riding north, alone. But they're too wise to ride up here. They'll trail up afoot and out of sight. That's your one chance."
"My chance, señor?"
"Yes. Here's some grub. You've got your gun. Drift down the slope, get back of the next ridge, and strike south. Locate their horses and wait till they leave them to come up here. Get a horse. Pick a good one. I'll keep them busy till you get back."