P.D. had been trained to sink on all fours at a word and he and Jack together dropped into the cover of the arroyo, below the desert line.  When he looked around Firio was at his side, still holding the reins of Wrath of God.  But Wrath of God’s sturdy, plodding nature had little facility in learning tricks.  A tiny stream of blood was flowing down his forehead and he lay still.  At last, all in loyal service, he had reached the horizon.  His bony, homely, good old face seemed singularly peaceful, as if satisfied with the reward at his journey’s end.  Jag Ear was standing beside P.D. and Prather’s burro next to him, both unharmed.  Nogales’s horse had also been killed, but its rider was safe.  Prather was crawling down the side of the arroyo on his belly, digging his hands into the dirt, his face white and contorted and his eyes shifting back and forth in ghastly incomprehension.  His horse followed him and sank down in final surrender to exhaustion.

By common impulse, Jack and Firio seized the rifles from Jag Ear’s pack, while Nogales, a spectator, squatted beside Prather.

“What—­what does it mean?” Prather gasped, spasmodically.  “I—­I—­was it Leddy that fired on us?”

“Yes,” said Jack over his shoulder, as he and Firio started up the bank of the arroyo facing the water-hole.  “No doubt of it.”

“It was you they wanted—­not me—­not me!  I—­I—­”

“I don’t know.  At all events, I do not mean they shall rush us!” Jack answered, as he and Firio hugged the slope with their rifles resting on top and only their heads showing above it.

“No!  It couldn’t be that they recognized me.  They will let me by!  They expect me!”

“Yes, you belong on their side!” Jack called back.

“I will send out a flag of truce!” said Prather, brightening with the thought.  “You, Nogales, take my handkerchief and go and explain to Leddy!”

Nogales seemed agreeable to the suggestion.  Indeed, he was very expeditious in starting.  While Jack never took his eye off the sight of his barrel, Nogales walked across the gleaming interval between the two parties waving Prather’s handkerchief.  Leddy rose on his knee watchfully, rifle in hand, while he spoke with Nogales.  Then Nogales started back with his head thrown up jubilantly, but stopped when he was within calling distance and sang out, truculently: 

“Leddy get you both!  He get everything!”

He turned on his heel and soon was another lump around the water-hole.

“That makes nine, Firio!” said Jack.

He smiled in relief to be rid of Nogales; smiled in happy confidence, as if he were truly the ancestor’s child.

“Si!” answered Firio, as if he had just as soon there were a regiment against them.  He was happy beyond words.  He patted his rifle barrel; he spread out his big red bandanna beside his elbow and on it nicely arranged a couple of extra charges of cartridges.