He scrambled down and told Sid his news.
“Kick me for a rank tenderfoot, Sid!” he groaned. “Kick me from here back to camp, and then kick me clear on down to Pinacate! Gorry, but I let the cat out that time!”
Sid grinned. “Buck up, old settler!” he cheered him. “I knew we were in wrong as soon as I saw that greaser schoolmaster. To give the Red Mesa plaque to some benign old priest to read, yes; but this bird was just a sinful man like the rest of us. The temptation proved too strong for him. Gee, but you handed him our dope, as innocent as innocent! Whee! Big John’ll think up something to do about it, though, and if he don’t we will. Remember, too, that Mexico is the land of mañana. I doubt if they even get any one started up from Sonora before we can make a fast push and get there first, old scout, so don’t worry. Besides, they can’t cross the border, unless a party of guerrillas does it. And—they’d have a lot of explaining to do to get the grant of a claim from the government unless regularly entered as immigrants through Nogales—which is further from Red Mesa than we are. Our job, now, is to keep an eye on this third Indian. He was sent after us as a spy, to keep track of us and report, you can depend on that. We’ll send Niltci after him.”
Scotty rode on, more hopeful. Sid’s rugged cheerfulness was what he always needed to brace him up. The one strong note in his character was his indomitable Scotch persistence. He never let go a thing once his mind was set on it, but he was easily disheartened and set back, for he had yet to learn that nine-tenths of our troubles exist solely in our imaginations.
It was nightfall when they reached camp. Not a sign had they seen of the third Indian, lurking in the hills somewhere behind them. That he had seen them was quite to be believed; he was probably watching their entry into camp at that very moment!
Big John hee-hawed when the boys told their story; then he jumped up, cackling hideously, grabbed Scotty and booted him all around the camp. “Thar!—Ye pisen li’l, ornery, horned toad!—Gol-darn ye—anyhow!” he guffawed, administering that kicking that Scotty had begged for but Sid had overlooked. “You boys ain’t satisfied with draggin’ me down to a country glowerin’ with petrified lava, but ye got to add to my troubles by ringin’ in a bunch of greasers on me! I tell ye what, Scotty, Pinacate means, ‘Bug-that-stands-on-his-haid,’ in Papago talk, an’ durned ef I don’t stand ye on yore haid, ef we don’t find no mine—an’ we won’t! Up you goes by the heels, I’ll be plumb hornswoggled ef I don’t do it!”
“Yeeow—attaboy!” yelled Sid, enthusiastically. “Well, how come? We’ve got to shake off this Apache, first, or he’ll follow us clear down to Pinacate. What’s the word, John?”
“My idee’s to do a leetle night ridin’, son—and sorter leave Niltci behind,” grinned Big John enigmatically. “Might’s well be rollin’ yore blankets right now, boys. The jerky’s all done and Niltci’s got it pickled away in a bunch of parfléche skins.”
That night the four horses, with Ruler and Blaze on rawhide leaders, pulled out of camp in the silence and gloom after dusk. One horse, Niltci’s flea-bitten mustang, was led riderless, his halter tied to the tail of Sid’s pinto. The white mustang that bore Big John’s long frame started ahead up the trail, a guide barely distinguishable in the faint light of the big Arizona stars. Black and inky buttes, jagged peaks and swelling ridges passed them in a slow procession around the horizon while Big John led on, stopping occasionally on the trail to reassure himself by some blazed stake set up in a cairn of stones or a rude corner of weathered granite rocks marking a turning point in the route.
The sun rose over the range of mountains left behind them next morning as the pack train wound down through the last pass in the hills and crossed the railroad track above Tucson. The horses were watered at a little river near the tracks, a river that was bravely hurrying on to its fate, to disappear forever in the thirsty sands of the desert to the north. Bare and rocky hills confronted them across the valley. As they headed into them Sid turned and looked back. A lone rider came galloping after them like a black speck hurrying out of the ranges across the valley. The whole party halted waiting for the rider, whether friend or foe.