Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1923-03-08

some suggestion IN the husky, thick
whisper or dark face, told Gale to
reach for his canteen. He lifted the
Indian and gave him drink, and If
ever in all his life he saw gratitude
in human eyes he saw it then. Then
he examined the injured Yaqui. The
Indian had three wounds-a bullet
hole in his shoulder, a crushed arm,
and badly lacerated leg.
The ranger thought rapidly. This
Yaqui would live unless left there to
die or be murdered by the Mexicans
when they found courage to sneak
back to the well. 1t never occurred to
Gale to abandon the poor fellow. All
the same, he knew he multiplied his
perils a hundredfold by burdening
himself with a crippled Indian. Swift
~ he set to work, and with rife ever
under his hand, ard shifting glance
spared from his task, he bound up the
Yaqui's wodnds. At the same time he
kept keen watch.
The Indians burros and the horses
of the raiders were all out of sight.
Time was too valuable for Gale to use
any in what might be vain search.
Therefore, he lifted the Yaqui upon
Sol's broad shoulders and climbed
into the saddle At word sol
dropped his head and started east
ward Hp the trail, walking swiftly,
without resentment for his double bur-
den.
Gale, bearing in mind the ever-pres-
ent possibility of encountering more
raiders and of being pursued, saved
the strength of the horse. Once out
of sight of Papago well, Gale dis
mounted and walked beside the horse,
steadying with one firm hand the help
less. dangling Yaqui.
Gale kept pace with his horse. He
bore the twinge of pain that darted
through his injured hip at every stride.
In the heat of midday he halted in the
shade Of a rock, and, lifting the Yaqui
down, gave him a drink. Then, after
a long, sweeping survey of the sur
rounding desert, he removed Sol's sad
die and let him roll, and took for him
self a welcome rest and a bite to eat.
The Yaqui was tenacious of life.
He was still holding his own. For the
first time Gale really looked at the
Indian to study him. He had large
head nobly cast, and a face that re-
sembled a shrunken mask. 1t seemed
chiseled in the dark-eyed, volcanic
lava Of his Sonora wilderness. The
Indians eyes were always black and
mystic, but this Yaqui's encompassed
all the tragic desoIation Of the desert.
They were fixed on Gale, moved only
when he moved.
Gale resumed his homeward jour
ney. He held grimly by the side of
the tireless, implacable horse, hold
ing the Yaqui on the saddle, taking
the brunt of the merciless thorns. In
the end 1t became hear1rendins; toll.
His heavy chaps dragged him down
but he dared not go on without them,
for. thick and stiff as they were, the
terrible, steel-bayoreted spikes of the
choyas pierced through to sting his
legs.
To the last mile Gale held to Blanco
Sol's gait and kept ever-watchful gaze
ahead on the trail. Then, with the
low. fiat houses of Forlorn River shin
ing red in the sunset, Gale Jagged and
ranfdly eakened. The YaQui slipped
out Of the saddle and dropped limp in
the sand. Gale could not mount his
horse. He clutched SoPs long tail and
twisted his hand in it and stag
gered on.
Blanco Sol whistled piercing blast.
He scented cool water and sweet al
falfa hay. Twinkling lights ahead
meant rest. The melancholy desert
twilight rapidly succeeded the sunset.
It accumulated the forlorn loneliness
of the gray, winding river of sand and
its grayer shores. Night shadows
trooped down from the black and
looming mountains.