“But listen, Hano,” said Sid, earnestly, “my people will surely come! They have a hound dog who can track me here. They will be very angry and there will be a fight. You are few, and my people are armed with revolvers and repeating rifles. There will be many killed, and all for nothing. But you can get by the guard down below. I cannot, without a fight and perhaps killing one of your people. You must go. My horse is tethered over at the foot of the mountain. Give him this water jar for me; he must be crazy with thirst by now. Then ride until you find my people. There are three; a big cowman, a boy like me, and a young Navaho. I think they are at Papago Tanks. Tell them that there is peace, and to come quickly.”

A long wait ensued while Hano considered.

“Besides, Hano—Mexicans are coming. We’ll need white men with rifles if your home is to be defended,” urged Sid, playing his last card.

“My brother speaks wise words,” said Hano at length. “Cut, white boy!—I go!”

Without waiting a moment more Sid drew his hunting knife and freed the young Apache. Then with a delicacy that forbade him to take any advantage of Hano’s escape to find the tunnel entrance, he turned his back and waited. There was a faint rustling; then he turned around to find Hano and the water jar vanished from the lodge.

CHAPTER VII
BLAZE

IT was perhaps an hour after Sid and his Apache captors had gone by that Blaze finally came to. The dog moaned feebly; then he tried to rise to his feet. An aching, burning pain shot through his shoulders and there came a sharp twinge as the arrow jerked loose from where its point had stuck in the rock.

It galvanized Blaze to frenzied action. He could not know that that arrow, passing through just above the spinal vertebræ, had temporarily paralyzed him with the shock of its blow. All his doggy understanding realized was that this awful thing burnt like a fire and must be shaken loose at once. At first he thrashed about recklessly trying to break it off or get rid of it, somehow, if rolling and plunging could do it. Then he snapped at the arrow ends savagely, shearing off point and feathers like the ends of a straw.

This spasm of frenzy ended in a mad bolt down the mountain in search of Master. Big John was Blaze’s idol; the one human who knew everything and always gave him the most glorious times of his life. When hurt before, it had been always Big John, his man-partner of their hunts who, strong and tender, had somehow made his hurts come well. Sid, as Little Master was all right, but Blaze hardly gave him a thought now, for this trouble was too terrible and he must find Big John! Trembling all over and yelping every time the arrow stub struck against a passing bush, Blaze struggled on down the hill. The bone tops of his shoulder blades rubbed against this inexorable Thing that stuck tenaciously through the flesh above them and at every step they hurt worse than grinding a raw bone. Again and again he felt himself growing weak and giddy with the pain of it. Each stumble was to him an agony of roaring and helpless rage. Heroic, stoical old Blaze, who had fought bear and mountain lion times innumerable; been bitten, slashed, mauled with clawed paws; who had lost one ear in a fight with a timber wolf—he found this thing to be the most maddening of all his experiences with pain. You could not fight back nor get hold of it, after that first savage crunch of his jaws had bitten off all the arrow that could be reached. It rode him thereafter like a spur that never let up.

Blaze’s progress grew slower and slower. At times he would stop and howl dismally for some one to come and help him. Then, after a grim and expectant period of waiting, he would crawl on again, floundering and tumbling down the steep flanks of the mountain. In time he reached the plain, where they had started up after the ram. Here was Sid’s pinto, and the animal whinnied eagerly for he was already thirsty and weary of waiting for their return. Blaze’s nose led him back to the tracks of the main party, where the familiar scent of Big John’s white mustang at last smote his nostrils.