The Border Legion

The country grew rougher, rock-strewn, covered with cedars and

patches of pine. Deer crashed out of the thickets and grouse whirred

up from under the horses. The warmth of the summer afternoon

chilled.

"Reckon we'd better give it up," called Roberts back to her.

"No--no. Go on," replied Joan.

And they urged their horses faster. Finally they reached the summit

of the slope. From that height they saw down into a round, shallow

valley, which led on, like all the deceptive reaches, to the ranges.

There was water down there. It glinted like red ribbon in the

sunlight. Not a living thing was in sight. Joan grew more

discouraged. It seemed there was scarcely any hope of overtaking Jim

that day. His trail led off round to the left and grew difficult to

follow. Finally, to make matters worse, Roberts's horse slipped in a

rocky wash and lamed himself. He did not want to go on, and, when

urged, could hardly walk.

Roberts got off to examine the injury. "Wal, he didn't break his

leg," he said, which was his manner of telling how bad the injury

was. "Joan, I reckon there'll be some worryin' back home tonight.

For your horse can't carry double an' I can't walk."

Joan dismounted. There was water in the wash, and she helped Roberts

bathe the sprained and swelling joint. In the interest and sympathy

of the moment she forgot her own trouble.

"Reckon we'll have to make camp right here," said Roberts, looking

around. "Lucky I've a pack on that saddle. I can make you

comfortable. But we'd better be careful about a fire an' not have

one after dark."

"There's no help for it," replied Joan. "Tomorrow we'll go on after

Jim. He can't be far ahead now." She was glad that it was impossible

to return home until the next day.

Roberts took the pack off his horse, and then the saddle. And he was

bending over in the act of loosening the cinches of Joan's saddle

when suddenly he straightened up with a jerk.

"What's that?"

Joan heard soft, dull thumps on the turf and then the sharp crack of

an unshod hoof upon stone. Wheeling, she saw three horsemen. They

were just across the wash and coming toward her. One rider pointed

in her direction. Silhouetted against the red of the sunset they

made dark and sinister figures. Joan glanced apprehensively at

Roberts. He was staring with a look of recognition in his eyes.

Under his breath he muttered a curse. And although Joan was not

certain, she believed that his face had shaded gray.