“I’m next to bein’ on the retired-list,” said he gaspingly; “but for you, Miss Dauntless, I’d be lying, scalped, this minute on that hogback. It was a lucky thing for me you broke away from the post like ye did, an’ decided to trail along in my wake. First time I ever fell down on a job the T. C. set for me!”
“You haven’t fallen down now,” said Dell.
“I’d like to know what ye call it!”
Cayuse was already on his feet, having caught the drift of Patterson’s remarks relative to a hurried descent upon Bonita.
With Dell’s aid, the boy succeeded in getting Patterson back into his saddle and again roping him there. After that he and Dell mounted, and the journey was continued.
Steadily onward rode the three through the night and into the coming dawn. No Apaches appeared to bother them, although the ominous silences of rock niche and chaparral were on every side as they rode.
At last they entered Bonita Cañon.
“We’re gettin’ clost now,” Patterson roused to remark just as the sun, like a golden pip snapped by the fingers of a Mighty Hand, leaped upward over the rim of the cañon.
His words were taken up by the notes of a bugle, coming from around a turn in the gorge.
The sergeant’s face brightened.