Blaze raised his head. Ruler! He knew the hound’s voice well! He got up, yelped a hoarse, throaty cry and crawled on. Ruler’s challenge grew more and more menacing and then there came the sound of men’s voices. And then Master’s voice, ringing out, stern and vibrant: “Halt, thar! Is that you, Sid?” it asked.
Blaze gave a joyful little moan and crawled feebly into camp, licking humbly at Big John’s boots. Ruler, puzzled, snuffed over him, after trying an abortive attempt at a romp. Then the water-hunger became too strong for Blaze to endure longer and he crept on to where a tank glimmered under the stars, a rock-bound pool in the lava, and there he drank and drank and drank until his dry tongue could lap up no more.
“Stand back, fellers! Fotch hyar a light. No, Sid!—and somethin’s happened to Blazie boy,” called out Big John’s voice in the dark. Niltci stirred up the camp fire, and presently Scotty came out of the boys’ green wall tent bearing a candle lantern.
“Well, I’ll be plumb teetotally hornswoggled!” roared Big John, as the light fell on the back of the drinking Blaze. “Shore, he’s all bloody! An’ he’s got a stick through his neck— Come hyar, Niltci! We gotto see about this! Sid’s shore got hisself into trouble—dern his pesky hide!”
Niltci made his peculiar exclamatory noise and sprang over to where Blaze still lay drinking.
“Arrow!” he pronounced after a moment’s inspection.
“Well, I’ll be durned!” grunted Big John. “Shore of it, Injun?” he questioned incredulously.
Niltci nodded. Then, stooping and holding Blaze’s muzzle with his fingers, he gave a quick yank which drew out the shaft. Blaze groaned through his set teeth. His blood came in a stream and they were busy for a short time getting a bandage on it. Then the Indian picked up the arrow and examined it more closely.
“Apache!” he declared.