Then silence, hollow, breathless, stony silence enveloped the great abyss and its upheaved lava walls.  The sun was setting.  Every instant the haze reddened and thickened.

Action on the part of the Yaqui loosened the spell which held Gale as motionless as his surroundings.  The Indian was edging back toward the ledge.  He did not move with his former lithe and sure freedom.  He crawled, slipped, dragged himself, rested often, and went on again.  He had been wounded.  When at last he reached the ledge where Mercedes lay Gale jumped to his feet, strong and thrilling, spurred to meet the responsibility that now rested upon him.

Swiftly he turned to where Thorne lay.  The cavalryman was just returning to consciousness.  Gale ran for a canteen, bathed his face, made him drink.  The look in Thorne’s eyes was hard to bear.

“Thorne!  Thorne! it’s all right, it’s all right!” cried Gale, in piercing tones.  “Mercedes is safe!  Yaqui saved her!  Rojas is done for!  Yaqui jumped down the wall and drove the bandit off the ledge.  Cut him loose from the wall, foot by foot, hand by hand!  We’ve won the fight, Thorne.”

For Thorne these were marvelous strength-giving words.  The dark horror left his eyes, and they began to dilate, to shine.  He stood up, dizzily but unaided, and he gazed across the crater.  Yaqui had reached the side of Mercedes, was bending over her.  She stirred.  Yaqui lifted her to her feet.  She appeared weak, unable to stand alone.  But she faced across the crater and waved her hand.  She was unharmed.  Thorne lifted both arms above head, and from his lips issued a cry.  It was neither call nor holloa nor welcome nor answer.  Like the Yaqui’s, it could scarcely be named.  But it was deep, husky, prolonged, terribly human in its intensity.  It made Gale shudder and made his heart beat like a trip hammer.  Mercedes again waved a white hand.  The Yaqui waved, too, and Gale saw in the action an urgent signal.

Hastily taking up canteen and rifles, Gale put a supporting arm around Thorne.

“Come, old man.  Can you walk?  Sure you can walk!  Lean on me, and we’ll soon get out of this.  Don’t look across.  Look where you step.  We’ve not much time before dark.  Oh, Thorne, I’m afraid Jim has cashed in!  And the last I saw of Laddy he was badly hurt.”

Gale was keyed up to a high pitch of excitement and alertness.  He seemed to be able to do many things.  But once off the ragged notched lava into the trail he had not such difficulty with Thorne, and could keep his keen gaze shifting everywhere for sight of enemies.

“Listen, Thorne!  What’s that?” asked Gale, halting as they came to a place where the trail led down through rough breaks in the lava.  The silence was broken by a strange sound, almost unbelieveable considering the time and place.  A voice was droning:  “Turn the lady, turn!  Turn the lady, turn!  Alamon left.  All swing; turn the lady, turn!”