“We can’t make it,” he said softly. “Not the two of us––but Laura, girlie, this is worth the game!”
“Yes we can, Roger,” she said eagerly. “Think! We can be married when we’ve left the desert. It’s not quite ten miles to Boxall Cañon. We can go up Boxall over the range and cross Death Flat.”
“I was thinking of that, sweetheart,” he replied. “But no horse can get up Boxall, an’ if he did he couldn’t get across Death Flat. Few men have crossed that stretch. It’s well named. I might try it alone; but you––no, Laura. It just ain’t in the pictures!”
“We don’t need horses, Roger. You’ve forgotten the burros. They’ll kill any horse on the desert, 252 won’t they? We can take two or three loaded with food and water.”
“But it’s miles and miles an’ then some––an’ it all looks alike.”
“But when we’ve reached the other side, Roger?”
He drew away from her and stepped to the door. He could not see or hear anything. When he turned and again approached her, his face was white. He looked at Mallory, who was standing with a look of stupefaction on his lined face.
“Wait!” he said and stepped into another room. In a few moments he was back, holding a money belt in his hands. He took out gold and bills and deposited the money on the table.
The others stared.
“There’s about six thousand there, Mallory. It’s gamblin’ money. Turn it in to the bank to make or help out Doane’s shortage. I’ve got just twenty-five hundred left which I earned in a better way.”