Clodomiro rolled himself in a serape not far from her place of rest, but Kit Rhodes slept with the packs and with two guns beside him. From the start on the trail no man had touched his outfit but himself. He grinned sometimes at thought of the favorable report the men of Rotil would deliver to their chief,––for the Americano had taken all personal care of the packs and chests of Doña Jocasta! He was as an owl and had no human need of sleep, and let no man help him.
The trail to the cañon of the Rio Seco was a hard trail, and a long day, and night caught them ere they reached the rim of the dry wash where, at long intervals, rain from the hills swept down its age-old channel for a brief hour.
Doña Jocasta, for the first time, had left the saddle and crept to the rude couch afforded by the piled-up blankets in the wagon; Clodomiro drove; and Kit, with the mules, led the way.
A little water still swished about in their water bottles, but not enough for the mules. He was more anxious than he dared betray, for it was twenty miles to the lower well of La Partida, and if by any stroke of fortune Cap Pike had failed to make good––Cap was old, and liable to–––
Then through the dusk of night he heard, quite near in the trail ahead, a curious thing, the call of a bird––and not a night bird!
It was a tremulous little call, and sent a thrill of such wild joy through his heart that he drew back the mule with a sharp cruel jerk, and held his breath to listen. Was he going loco from lack of sleep,––lack of water,––and dreams of–––
It came again, and he answered it as he plunged forward down a barranca and up the other side where a girl sat on a roan horse under the stars:––his horse! also his girl!
If he had entertained any doubts concerning the last––but he knew now he never had; a rather surprising fact considering that no word had ever been spoken of such ownership!––they would have been dispelled by the way she slipped from the saddle into his arms.
“Oh, and you didn’t forget! you didn’t forget!” she whimpered with her head hidden against his breast. “I––I’m mighty glad of that. Neither did I!”
“Why, Lark-child, you’ve been right alongside wherever I heard that call ever since I rode away,” he said patting her head and holding her close. He had a horrible suspicion that she was crying,––girls were mysterious! “Now, now, now,” he went on with a comforting pat to each word, “don’t worry about anything. I’m back safe, though in big need of a drink,––and luck will come your way, and–––”