The evening which passed under such remarkable circumstances in the neighborhood of Cold Spring was uncommonly long and busy at the Santa Lucia ranch.

Tallow was abundant where so many cattle were raised and slaughtered every season, and Mrs. Evans prided herself upon her skill in the manufacture of candles. Whatever other comforts of life in the settlements were lacking in the old hacienda, there was always plenty of illumination after nightfall. There was usually but a short time for candle-light in June, for people who arose so soon after daylight were accustomed to go to bed early. On this particular evening, however, the parlor wore a very brilliant appearance for two hours longer than ordinary.

The first look at the precious things brought by the tilted wagon had been only a look, and every article had to undergo another inspection.

All were dropped at last, or, rather, there they lay, except such things as were under Norah McLory's care, all scattered around the room.

"I can't help it," said Mrs. Evans; "I feel uneasy about Cal.""So do I, mother," said Vic, leaning back, upon the sofa; "but you never said as much before."

"Somehow I didn't feel so, Vic; but it seems to me—Well, I do wish he could be here, looking over his new books, instead of away out there."

"We sha'n't hear from him for ever so long," said Vic. "All sorts of things might happen and we not know it."

Somehow or other, as the talk drifted on, the varied assortment with which the floor and chairs were littered lost its charm. Mrs. Evans even got to telling stories of other times when her husband had been away from her. She had more than once been compelled to wait long for news of him, and had heard tidings of danger before anything better came. He had fought his way out of perilous circumstances, and her eyes kindled, now and then, as she related how. Wah-wah-o-be herself was not prouder of the deeds of Kah-go-mish.

Vic listened, but her imagination was a little out of joint, for she found herself unconsciously putting Cal in his father's place. She knew very well that he could not pick up one Indian and knock over another with him, as Colonel Abe Evans had done upon an occasion described by her mother. She had altogether more confidence in the heels of the red mustang, and she said so.

"I hope he will bring Dick back safe and sound," she said. "He's almost one of the family."

"Cal would be dreadfully sorry to lose him," said Mrs. Evans. "Come, Vic, I don't want to talk any more."

Neither of them was in good condition for going to sleep, nevertheless, and it may be that their eyes were hardly closed when those of Cal were opened at the summons of Dick to watch the moonlight procession in the chaparral.

The warrior who first laid a hand upon the rein of the red mustang did so with a loud whoop. Cal summoned all his presence of mind and held out his right hand.

"How," he said, "good friend."

"Ugh!" responded the savage. "Heap boy."

No violence was offered, for none seemed to be called for, and it is a mistake to suppose that all the instincts and customs of the red men are in favor of slaughter. Just now, moreover, the clansmen of Kah-go-mish were under orders of mercy, and Cal was led on at once to the presence of the chief. Dick was led with him, and the two friends stood side by side in front of the distinguished Mescalero. He had kept on his cocked hat, and Cal thought he had never before seen so remarkable a figure, especially by moonlight.

One of Cal's accomplishments, a matter of course to a boy with Mexican servants in his own house, was a good acquaintance with Spanish, and it helped out the chief's English in the questions and answers which followed.

Great was the delight of Kah-go-mish. He and the cowboy commander were now even. Each had a son of the other as a sort of security, and all the horses gathered upon Slater's Branch seemed more likely to remain Apache property.

The bugling and random firing among the bushes that day was all explained now, and the great plan of Kah-go-mish looked very well indeed. It was needful, however, to put a goodly distance between him and the blue-coats, for whose conduct he had no security whatever.

Cal's weapons were taken from him, and he was ordered to mount and ride. He at once explained that neither he nor Dick had tasted water since morning, that the red mustang was worth several common horses, and that he must now be too tired to carry a rider. As for himself, he had slept, was rested, and was ready to travel.

Water was scarce in the band of Kah-go-mish at that time, but several gourds half full were obtained by the chief. He proposed to treat his prisoner pretty well, and was willing to save so very good a pony.

Cal could hardly swallow when the water was brought to him. Not only his mouth was parched and his throat husky, but his very heart was sick.

He had heard of the terrific things done by Apaches to their prisoners, and he had no confidence at all in the present appearance of good-will. He had not been told of Ping and Tah-nu-nu in his own camp, or he might have felt better. As it was, he drank a little, and then turned his attention to the red mustang. Only a small part of what Dick was ready for could be given him, and he was glad enough when his downcast master divided water-rations with him. He felt better, and whinnied eagerly for more. He pawed the ground and looked around to see if anything like grass or corn was also forthcoming. Nothing of the kind came, but a Mexican pony was led up, Cal's saddle and bridle were transferred to him, and Dick was hitched to a long lariat by which several other quadrupeds were being led. The last he saw of Cal that night was when the latter rode forward, side by side with a very lean-looking brave who carried a long lance, and who had warned Cal that it would be used at once upon any attempt to escape. Before long the entire cavalcade was out of the chaparral, and Cal noted that the north star was directly behind him.

"Down into Mexico," he said to himself. "It will be long enough before I see Santa Lucia again."

It was cooler travelling by night than by day, but the hard-baked soil sent up an uncomfortable amount of heat, and it was only now and then that even a cactus or a sage-bush was seen along the dreary way. One of the captured Mexican horses gave out and was left for the buzzards. An hour later an old pony which had travelled all the way from the Mescalero Reservation was unable to go any farther, and he too lay down.

Cal thought of Dick, and Dick may have been, thinking of him, but the red mustang was really in need of nothing but grass and water. He had no idea whatever of giving up, and there were no mules tied to his lariat to worry him.

Another hour went by, and the alkaline sand and gravel of the desert became strewn with rocks, among which the long cavalcade slowly wound its way. There was no straggling, for even the animals seemed anxious to get out of that gloomy region. The moon was low towards the horizon, when it suddenly occurred to Cal that during ten or fifteen minutes he had seen a greater number of scrubby bushes.

"More chaparral coming?" he thought. "Hope there's a spring in it, somewhere. Never was so awfully thirsty in all my life."

He could hardly have said as much aloud, for his voice seemed to have dried up. He was hungry, too, for he had not been able to eat much of the bit of cold, half-cooked beef brought to him by Wah-wah-o-be before the train left the Cold Spring chaparral.

Trees! Yes, right and left of them, and they were a pleasant sight to see. How could the red men have found any place in particular, by night, across that trackless plain?

They could not, and they had not, for it had been no part of the plan of Kah-go-mish to leave a trail behind him, or to travel by any old road.

Grass? There was almost a thrill at Cal's heart. A temporary halt was making, and he saw a pony nibble something at the wayside. It must be that the southern edge of the desert had been reached at last.

The halt had been made for purposes of exploration. Trees and grass in that region were unmistakable signs of water, under the ground or above it. Cal sat still upon the pony and the warrior at his side was as motionless as a statue. All around them was deep and sombre shadow, but the air was cooler, and a breeze began to come out of the darkness before them.

Minutes passed, and then a clear, twice-repeated whoop came to their ears.

"Ugh!" said the lean Apache, with evident satisfaction. "Heap water. Boy drink plenty now. Sun come, tie up boy and make fire on him. How boy like fire? Ugh!"

Cal could make no reply whatever, except by a shudder, and they once more rode forward.