“Anything to be seen across the valley along the trail we came?”

“Nothing, sir; not a puff of dust.  But here’s something I don’t understand—­off here in the range south of us—­well up towards the top.”

“What’s that?” asked Wing, dropping the coil of lariat he held in his hand and looking quickly up.

“Well, it’s more like signal-smoke than anything else.  Just exactly such smoke as we have seen in the Chiricahua and Catarinas and ——­ Well, just come up here with your field-glass, if you can, sergeant.  I believe there’s an answer to it way down to the southeast,—­t’other side of the valley.”

In an instant Wing turned.  “Sorry for you, Senor Moreno,” he grimly muttered.  “But as only two men are with me and both are otherwise engaged, I’ll have to secure you temporarily.  It isn’t pleasant, but it serves you right.”

In vain the Mexican pleaded and protested.  A rawhide riata was wound and looped about him in a few scientific turns and he was left reclining against the rock, conquered yet inwardly raging, while Wing stole in to Drummond’s rude couch, slipped the field-glass from its case, then, with a longing look into the darker depths beyond, and a moment’s hesitation, he stepped to the projecting rock that seemed to divide the cave into two apartments and called in lower tone, “Miss Harvey.”

“Here, Mr. Wing.  What is wanted?”

And at the instant, prompt, alert, even smiling, Fanny Harvey appeared before him.  The pallor was gone.  The dishevelled hair had been twisted into shape.  Food, rest, relief from dread and misery, and that little appreciated beautifier, fresh water, had wrought their transformation here.  Wing’s handsome eyes glistened as he removed his hat.

“I have to go up to that point yonder a few minutes, leaving old Moreno alone, bound, to be sure, but his wife or daughter might slip out and release him.  Will you have the goodness—­to take this—­and shoot him if they should make the attempt?” And he handed her his pistol.

“I’ll see to it that no one interferes with him, Mr. Wing.  What has happened?  Are the others coming?” And she took the revolver, balancing it in her accustomed and practised hand.  The admiration deepened in Wing’s gaze.

“I see you handle a pistol as though you had used one.  You’re a true frontiersman’s daughter.  I’ll have to be away for a few minutes.  I’m going up to look from our rock above there.  Some of our men, they say, are in sight slowly returning, and the paymaster’s ambulance is only a mile away, probably waiting for the rest of the party.  How is Miss Ruth?”

“Sleeping like a baby, bless her heart.”

“Well, I have promised Mr. Drummond that she should be his nurse.  I hope you will consent.  He is sleeping, too.  No fever yet, I am thankful to say.”

“Ruth will be ready, and so will I, to help in any way we can.  But when are you to have a rest, may I ask?”