The stranger, who had not spoken for two hours, reined up his animal with a jerk; his eyes flashed fire as they met those of the guide.
"So you abandon her to her fate, do you?"
"Wal, I reckon there's no use of you curlin' up your nose at me if I do," responded Joe, angered by the fierce sneer of his companion's face. "What man kin do to save that child I'm willin' to do, though she's no kith or kin of mine. But there's no use keepin' on this way—'twon't save her and 'twon't do no good. We've got to give up for the present—she's dead or out of our reach 'fore this. But this I say—if them pesky red-skins has had any thing to do with carrying her off, we'll find it out sooner or later. I'll track her, dead or alive, if it takes ten years—and I'll have my revenge on 'em—for I took a fancy to that little critter." He drew his sleeve across his eyes, and then, ashamed of the weakness, looked as if about to whip his companion, as a more natural way of giving vent to his emotions.
"I will not, I can not give her up!" said Mr. Carollyn. "I will perish here in the effort to find her. Friend, do not leave me yet. I will cheerfully give you a thousand dollars if we are successful."
"I'd do more for Miss 'Lizabeth than I would for a thousand dollars, stranger. Buckskin Joe'd never give up while thar' was as much hope left as thar' is white on a black cat. But gold won't water our horses nor bring game to our feet in this cussed desert. We're on the trail now, and our only chance for ourselves is to keep it, and catch up with our company. If it would do her any good, the Lord knows I'd starve to death in welcome."
A repressed groan was the only reply of the other, whose eyes roved restlessly over the broad and burning expanse. There was a look of wildness and misery in his face which caused Joe to mutter to himself:
"The sun on his head is onsettlin' his brain."
The next moment the flash of something against the light dazzled him; looking to see what it was, he perceived the stranger, as if oblivious of his presence, holding a ring in his hand and utterly absorbed in gazing upon it. He knew it in an instant—it was Elizabeth Wright's! Indignation and astonishment struggled in the honest mind of the guide. His acquaintance with Mr. Carollyn, developed as it had been by the intimacy of the last two days, had increased his respect for the courage, endurance, the great learning and the real manliness of his companion, whom he both respected and admired.
The matter of the ring had been almost driven from his mind by greater anxieties. Now he recalled the young girl's suspicions, and his promise that he would restore the lost jewel to her if he should discover it, even upon the person of the haughty gentleman. Resolved to risk the consequences of giving offense, he at once inquired:
"Where did you get that, Mr. Carollyn?"