The Apache is one of the best trailers in the world. They were under a terrible handicap, and both realized it. With the great white horse, strong as it was, carrying double, they could not hope to out-distance pursuit.
"Yuh'd better leave me, Kid," Robbins begged.
"Befo' I'd leave yo'," returned the Texan, "I'd leave me!"
Dawn began to glow pink and orange behind them, and gradually the dim, star-studded vault overhead became gray with the new day. Shortly afterward, they reached the water hole. It was nearly dry, but enough moisture remained to refresh both horse and riders.
Then they went on again. Kid Wolf could, tell by Blizzard's actions that they were being followed. Before long he himself saw signs. Little dust clouds began to show behind them, scattered over a line miles long.
"Garvey and his Apaches!" the Texan jerked out. "And they're gainin' fast."
"Can we beat 'em to Mexican Tanks?"
"No," The Kid drawled, "but we can fight!"
They soon saw the hopelessness of it all. The horizon behind them swarmed with moving dots—dots that grew larger and more distinct with every fleeting minute. Garvey had obtained reënforcements, without doubt, for there seemed to be no end to the pursuing Apaches.
Blizzard ran like the thoroughbred he was. But even his iron muscles could not stand the strain for long. The ponies behind were fresh, and the snow-white charger was tremendously handicapped with the added weight which had been placed upon it.