“I reckon we’ll stop and rest here a while till it gets cooler,” observed Pete.  “Might as well, now.  We can start in an hour and get in to the wagon by dark.  Reckon Frank Boland was glad to see them two fires!  I bet that boy sure hated to be left behind.  Pretty tough—­but it had to be done.  This has been a thunderin’ hard trip on Frankie and he’s stood up to it fine.  Good stuff!” He turned to the boy:  “Well, Bobby, you had a hard time wranglin’ them to-day—­but you got ’em, didn’t you, son?”

“That’s what I went after,” said Bobby.

* * * * *

Boland stiffened after his rest.  He made two small marches toward the wagon, but his tortured muscles were so stiff and sore that he gave it up at last.  After he saw and answered the signal fires he dropped off to sleep.

He was awakened by a jingling of spurs and a trampling of hoofs.  He got to his feet hurriedly.  Four horsemen reined up beside him—­not Pete Johnson and his friends, but four strangers, who looked at him curiously.  Their horses were sadly travel-stained.

“Anything wrong, young man?  We saw your fire?”

“No—­not now.”  Boland’s thoughts were confused and his head sang.  He attributed these things to sleepiness; in fact, he was sickening to a fever.

“You look mighty peaked,” said the spokesman.  “Got water?  Anything we can do for you?”

“Nothing the matter with me, except that I’m pretty well played out.  And I’ve been anxious.  There was a boy lost, or hurt—­I don’t know which.  But it’s all right now.  They lit two fires.  That was to be the signal if there was nothing seriously wrong.  I let the boy’s father take my horse—­man by the name of Carr.”

“And the others?  That was Pete Johnson, wasn’t it?  He went after the boy?”

“Yes.  And young Mitchell and Joe Benavides.”

Zurich glanced aside at his companions.  Dorsey’s back was turned.  Jim Scarboro was swearing helplessly under his breath.  Tall Eric had taken off his hat and fumbled with it; the low sun was ruddy in his bright hair.  Perhaps it was that same sun which flamed so swiftly in Zurich’s face.

“We might as well go back,” he said dully, and turned his horse’s head toward the little huddle of hills in the southwest.

Boland watched them go with a confused mind, and sank back to sleep again.

* * * * *

“Jackson,” said Pete in the morning, “you and Frank stay here.  I reckon there’ll be no use to take the wagon down to the old claim; but us three are going down to take a look, now we’ve come this far.  Frank says he’s feeling better, but he don’t look very peart.  You get him to sleep all you can.  If we should happen to want you, we’ll light a big fire.  So long!”

“Don Hooaleece,” said Benavides, very bright-eyed, when they had ridden a little way from camp, “how is eet to be?  Eef eet is war I am wis you to ze beeg black box.”