Somehow he got to his feet, somehow he dragged his revolver out of its holster, somehow he took a dozen tottering steps forward.  He saw that Kish Taka had seen him and had stopped; that the Indian carried his canteen; that he was moving again.  Howard lifted his gun, holding it in both hands.  He was afraid that even now his quarry would escape him, that Kish Taka would run and that he could not follow.  His fingers found the trigger and pressed it as he sought to hold the wavering muzzle steady.  There was a loud report that seemed to tear his brain to broken shreds, his arms dropped lax at his sides, the revolver fell, its muzzle burying itself in the sand.  His knees sagged and he went down, settling slowly.  As he fell he saw that Kish Taka was running—­but not away from him.  Running like a deer was Kish Taka, running straight to the fallen man.

For the first time in his life, Howard fainted, The pink dawn went black in his eyes, his brain reeled, the booming as of a distant surf filled his ears and then unconsciousness engulfed him.  When he, knew anything at all it was that he was sitting up, that two thin brown arms were about his body, that water was trickling down his throat.

Chapter XIV

The Hate of the Hidden People

When Alan Howard fully understood, he felt his face go red with shame.  There was in his soul something akin to timidity as he put his hand forth for the hand of Kish Taka.  And when the Indian nodded gravely and gave his own hand, the white man’s fingers locked about it hard.  Still East was East and West was West, and again had two strong men met from the ends of earth.

‘I have horses and cows and houses and corn,’ said Howard, speaking slowly and simply that the Indian might understand clearly.  ’What I have is my brother’s.  When Kish Taka wants a friend, let him come down into Desert Valley and call to Alan Howard.’

The beady, bird-like eyes were void of expression as Kish Taka regarded him steadily.  The Indian did not so much as nod again.  Like the desert that had mothered him and his progenitors, he had the tricks of silence and of inscrutability.

From the few words which the Indian had spoken and from his own suddenly altered estimate of his new companion, Howard came to understand fully the amazing act which Kish Taka had performed during the night.  The Indian had been near the limits of his strength and endurance when the white man had given him generously of his water.  Kish Taka had drank sparingly and, because he was desert-bred and because the stock from which he was sprung was desert-bred, his bodily strength had returned to him.  He slept; Howard slept.  But the Indian woke, somewhat refreshed, in half an hour.  He understood that in the canteen there was not water for both.  He promptly drank one of the two remaining cupfuls, slung the canteen over his shoulder and struck off swiftly for the twenty-five-mile-distant spring.