“You’re talkin’ sense now, Jim.  I wish we’d headed that way long ago.  But it ain’t strange I’d want to travel away from the border, thinkin’ of the girl.  Jim, we can’t go round this Greaser outfit an’ strike the road again.  Too rough.  So we’ll have to give up gettin’ to San Felipe.”

“Perhaps it’s just as well, Laddy.  Rio Forlorn is on the border line, but it’s country where these rebels ain’t been yet.”

“Wait till they learn of the oasis an’ Beldin’s hosses!” exclaimed Laddy.  “I’m not anticipatin’ peace anywhere along the border, Jim.  But we can’t go ahead; we can’t go back.”

“What’ll we do, Laddy?  It’s a hike to Beldin’s ranch.  An’ if we get there in daylight some Greaser will see the girl before Beldin’ can hide her.  It’ll get talked about.  The news’ll travel to Casita like sage balls before the wind.”

“Shore we won’t ride into Rio Forlorn in the daytime.  Let’s slip the packs, Jim.  We can hid them off in the cactus an’ come back after them.  With the young man ridin’ we—­”

The whispering was interrupted by a loud ringing neigh that whistled up from the arroyo.  One of the horses had scented the travelers on the ridge top.  The indifference of the Mexicans changed to attention.

Ladd and Lash turned back and led the horses into the first opening on the south side of the road.  There was nothing more said at the moment, and manifestly the cowboys were in a hurry.  Gale had to run in the open places to keep up.  When they did stop it was welcome to Gale, for he had begun to fall behind.

The packs were slipped, securely tied and hidden in a mesquite clump.  Ladd strapped a blanket around one of the horses.  His next move was to take off his chaps.

“Gale, you’re wearin’ boots, an’ by liftin’ your feet you can beat the cactus,” he whispered.  “But the—­the—­Miss Castaneda, she’ll be torn all to pieces unless she puts these on.  Please tell her—­an’ hurry.”

Dick took the caps, and, going up to Mercedes, he explained the situation.  She laughed, evidently at his embarrassed earnestness, and slipped out of the saddle.

“Senor, chapparejos and I are not strangers,” she said.

Deftly and promptly she equipped herself, and then Gale helped her into the saddle, called to her horse, and started off.  Lash directed Gale to mount the other saddled horse and go next.

Dick had not ridden a hundred yards behind the trotting leaders before he had sundry painful encounters with reaching cactus arms.  The horse missed these by a narrow margin.  Dick’s knees appeared to be in line, and it became necessary for him to lift them high and let his boots take the onslaught of the spikes.  He was at home in the saddle, and the accomplishment was about the only one he possessed that had been of any advantage during his sojourn in the West.