“Ask him what the chances be of running the river safely,” added Kelly.

“Dam slim,” answered Texas; and there the talk ended.  There was some meditative chewing, after which the three returned to the bivouac, and either lay down to sleep or took their tours at guard duty.

At dawn the party recommenced its flight toward the Moqui country.  There were sixty hours more of hard riding, insufficient sleep, short rations, thirst, and anxiety.  Once the suffering animals stampeded after water, and ran for several miles over plateaux of rock, dashing off burdens and riders, and only halting when they were plunged knee-deep in the water-hole which they had scented.  One of the wounded rancheros expired on the mule to which he was strapped, and was carried dead for several hours, his ashy-brown face swinging to and fro, until Coronado had him thrown into a crevice.

Amid these hardships and horrors Clara showed no sign of flagging or flinching.  She was very thin; bad food, excessive fatigue, and anxiety had reduced her; her face was pinched, narrowed, and somewhat lined; her expression was painfully set and eager.  But she never asked for repose, and never complained.  Her mind was solely fixed upon finding Thurstane, and her feverish bright eyes continually searched the horizon for him.  She seemed to have lost her power of sympathizing with any other creature.  To Mrs. Stanley’s groanings and murmurings she vouchsafed rare and brief condolences.  The dead muleteer and the tortured, bellowing animals attracted little of her notice.  She was not hard-hearted; she was simply almost insane.  In this state of abnormal exaltation she continued until the party reached the quiet and safety of the Moqui pueblos.

Then there was a change; exhausted nature required either apathy or death; and for two days she lay in a sort of stupor, sleeping a great deal, and crying often when awake.  The only person capable of rousing her was Sergeant Meyer, who made expeditions to the other pueblos for news of Thurstane, and brought her news of his hopes and his failures.

After a three days’ rest Coronado decided to resume his journey by moving southward toward the Bernalillo trail.  Freed from Thurstane, he no longer contemplated losing Clara in the desert, but meant to marry her, and trusted that he could do it.  Two of his wagons he presented to the Moquis, who were, of course, delighted with the acquisition, although they had no more use for wheeled vehicles than for gunboats.  With only four wagons, his animals were more than sufficient, and the train made tolerably rapid progress, in spite of the roughness of the country.