Over among the rocks across the narrow canon the first object to meet his gaze as he arose was Moreno, reclining there bound and helpless, while near at hand a soldier had thrown himself on his saddle blanket and was sound asleep.  The plash of the waters in the brook, dancing and tumbling down the chasm, made sweet, drowsing music for his ears, a lulling, soothing sound that explained perhaps the deep slumber of his trooper friend.

“I heard Mr. Wing tell that man to lie down and sleep,” said Miss Harvey, as the young officer’s eyes seemed to darken with menace at the sight of a sentry sleeping on guard.  “Moreno is securely tied, and both Patterson up there and I here are now his keepers.  The senora and her daughter are in the other cave, forbidden to go near him.”

Glancing up at the stunted cedar where Patterson stood faithful to his trust, Drummond saw that he was peering steadily southward through the black field-glasses.

“What do you see, Patterson?” he hailed.  “Where is Wing?  Any of the men coming back?”

“Wing has gone on down the valley, sir.  Some of our fellows, two or three only, were coming back, but they didn’t come fast enough to suit him.  The ambulance will be here in a minute or two,—­it’s just below us down the canon now.”

Indeed, almost at the moment the click of iron-shod hoofs was heard, and the dejected mule-team came into view around a jutting point, the dingy yellow ambulance jolting after them, one soldier in the driver’s seat handling the reins, the other riding behind and leading his comrade’s horse.

“Come up here to the mouth of the cave, Merrill,” called the lieutenant.  “You can unhitch and unharness just beyond; but I want that safe unloaded and put in here.”

“The safe’s gone, sir.”

“What?”

“The safe’s gone, sir.  We never got it.  That’s what took Sergeant Wing off down the valley, I reckon.  I supposed you knew it, sir, and him, too, but he didn’t.  Those Morales fellows got away with it on burro-back while we were chasing the white wagon.”

For a moment Drummond stood astounded.

“Man alive!” he at last exclaimed, “why was I not told of this?  Get me a horse at once, Walsh,” he ordered.  “I’ll take Patterson’s.  You two remain here and see that that old scoundrel don’t get loose,—­Moreno there,—­and that no harm befall the ladies.  I’ll ride down after Wing.”

“Oh, Mr. Drummond, you must not think of going,” exclaimed Miss Harvey.  “You’re far too seriously hurt, far too weak, to attempt such a thing.  Please lie down again.  Surely Mr. Wing will do all that any man could do to recover the safe.  All the others are in pursuit.  They must have overtaken them by this time.  Come; I am doctor now that he is away.  Obey me and lie still.”

Drummond’s one available hand found itself clasped by warm, slender fingers.  He would have drawn it away and striven to carry out his design, but a glance at his two troopers told him that they plainly and earnestly advocated Miss Harvey’s view of the case.  He was in no condition to make the attempt.  And at the moment, too, even as he strove to release his hand, another voice was heard, almost imploring.