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while they divided into two parties and hunted up and down the arroyo for the
best trail。
It was just such vexatious delays as this which had kept them always a day's
ride or more behind their quarry； and Luck's hand trembled with nervous
irritability when he turned back and banded Applehead one of those small；
shrill police whistles whose sound carries so far； and which are much used by
motion…picture producers for the long…distance direction of scenes。
〃I happened to have a couple in my pocket；〃 he explained hurriedly。 〃You know
the signals； don't you？ One long； two short will mean you've picked up the
trail。 Three or more short； quick ones is an emergency call； for all hands to
come running。〃
〃Well； they's one thing you want to keep in mind； Luck；〃 Applehead urged from
his superior trail craft。 〃They might be sharp enough to ride in here a ways
and come out the same side they rode in at。 Yuh want to hunt both sides as yuh
go up。〃
〃Sure；〃 said Luck； and hurried away up the arroyo with Pink； Big Medicine；
Andy and the Native Son at his heels； leading the two pack…horses that
belonged to their party。 In the opposite direction went Applehead and the
others； their eyes upon the ground watching for the faintest sign of
hoofprints。
That blazing ball of torment； the sun； slid farther and farther down to the
skyline； tempering its heat with the cool promise of dusk。 Away up the arroyo；
Luck stopped for breath after a sharp climb up through a narrow gash in the
sheer wall of what was now a small canon； and saw that to search any farther
in that direction would be useless。 Across the arroyothat had narrowed and
deepened until it was a canonAndy Green was mopping his face with his
handkerchief and studying a bold hump of jumbled bowlders and ledges；
evidently considering whether it was worth while toiling up to the top。 A
little below him； the Native Son was flinging rocks at a rattlesnake with the
vicious precision of frank abhorrence。 Down in the canon bottom Big Medicine
and Pink were holding the horses on the shady side of the gorge； and the smoke
of their cigarettes floated lazily upward with the jumbled monotone of their
voices。
Andy； glancing across at Luck； waved his hand and sat down on a rock that was
shaded by a high bowlder； reached mechanically for his 〃makings〃 and with his
feet far apart and his elbows on his thighs； wearily rolled a cigarette。
〃How about it； boss？〃 he asked； scarcely raising his voice above the ordinary
conversational tone； though a hard fifteen…minutes' climb up and down
separated the two； 〃they never came up the arroyo； if you ask ME。 My side
don't show a hoof track from where we left the boys down below。〃
〃Mine either；〃 Luck replied； by the power of suggestion seating himself and
reaching for his own tobacco and papers。 〃We might as well work back down and
connect with Applehead。 Wish there was some sign of water in this darn gulch。
By the time we get down where we started from； it'll be sundown。〃 He glanced
down at Bud and Pink。 〃Hey！ You can start back any； time；〃 he called。 〃Nothing
up this way。〃
〃Here's the grandfather of all rattlers；〃 Miguel called across to Luck； and
held up by the tail a great snake that had not ceased its muscular writhings。
〃Twelve rattles and a button。 Have I got time to skin him？ He tried to bite me
on the legbut I beard him and got outa reach。〃
〃We've got to be moving；〃 Luck answered。 〃It's a long ways back where we
started from； and we've got to locate water； if we can。〃 He rose with the
deliberateness that indicated tired muscles； and started back； and to himself
be muttered exasperatedly： 〃A good three hours all shot to piecesand not a
mile gained on that bunch！〃
The Native Son； calmly pinching the rattles of the snake he had not time to
skin； climbed down into the Canon and took his horse by the bridle reins。
Behind him Andy Green came scrambling； but Luck； still faintly hoping for a
clue； kept to the upper rim of the arroyo； scanning every bit of soft ground
where it seemed possible for a horse to climb up from below。 He had always
recognized the native cunning of Ramon； but he had never dreamed him as
cunning as this latest ruse would seem to prove him。
As for Bill Holmes； Luck dismissed him with a shrug of contempt。 Bill Holmes
had been stranded in Albuquerque when the cold weather was coming on； he had
been hungry and shelterless and ill…cladone of those bits of flotsam which
drift into our towns and stand dejectedly upon our street…corners when they do
not prowl down alleys to the back doors of our restaurants in the hope of
being permitted to wash the soiled dishes of more fortunate men for the food
which diners have left beside their plates。 Luck had fed Bill Holmes； and he
had given him work to do and the best food and shelter he could afford； and
for thanks； Bill had… as Luck believed…made sly； dishonest love to
Annie…Many…Ponies； for whose physical and moral welfare Luck would be held
responsible。 Bill had deliberately chosen to steal rather than work for honest
wages； and had preferred the unstable friendship of Ramon Chavez to the
cleaner life in Luck's company。 He did not credit Bill Holmes with anything
stronger than a weak…souled treachery。 Ramon； he told himself while he made
his way down the arroyo side； was at least working out a clever scheme of his
own； and it rested with Luck and his posse to see that Ramon was cheated of
success。
So deeply was he engrossed that before he realized it he was down where they
had left Applehead's party。 There was no sign of them anywhere； so Luck went
down and mounted his horse and led the way down the arroyo。
Already the heat was lessening and the land was taking on those translucent
opal tints which make of New Mexico a land of enchantment。 The far hills
enveloped themselves in a faint； purplish haze through which they seemed to
blush unwittingly。 The mesa； no longer showing itself an and waste of heat and
untracked wilderness； lay soft under a thin veil of many ethereal tints。 Away
off to the northeast they heard the thin； vague clamor of a band of sheep and
the staccato barking of a dog。
Luck rode for some distance； his uneasiness growing as the shadows deepened
with the setting of the sun。 They had gone too far to hear any whistled
signal； but it seemed to him reasonable to suppose that Applehead would return
to their starting point； whether he found the trail or not； or at least send a
man back。 Luck began to think more seriously of Applehead's numerous warnings
about the Indiansand yet； there had been no sound of shooting； which is the
first sign of trouble in this country。 Rifle shots can be heard a long way in
this clear air； so Luck presently dismissed that worry and gave his mind to
the very real one which assailed them all； which was water for their horses。
The boys were riding along in silence； sitting over to one side with a foot
dangling free of its