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d without an Apache knowing it； it was absurd to believe they would not be aware of all that had happened。
Moreover； the Apaches who escaped from the kidnapping of Maria Cristina must by now be seeking them out。 Yet wherever he looked； the desert was empty。
Returning to the overhang； he found Maria Cristina sitting by the rocks with a rifle at hand。 Their eyes met and no words were needed。 Both had grown up in Indian country； they understood the gravity of their situation。
They were two people with a wounded man on their hands and no telling when help would reach them。 The rain had wiped out their trail； yet the Apaches well knew where they would be going。 It was only a matter of time until they were discovered。
They now had four horses picketed and Jordan considered rigging a litter between two of them； yet these horses were unused to any such contrivance and would be frightened by it。 They were； at best； just broken to the saddle。
Slowly the hours dragged by and there was nothing。 The danger grew greater by the minute and Jordan was restless and irritable。
Ben Hindeman began to mutter and plain。 His fever mounted and he became delirious。 Maria Cristina sat with him； keeping damp cloths on his head。 Several times she mixed concoctions used by the Indians for fever and they helped； but Hindeman had lost blood from his wounds and his condition was far from good。
Raiding parties from the Sierra Madre used this route and the Chiricahuas had their stronghold in the mountains just north of the border。
By noon of the second day Jordan knew something must be done。 He had been leaning on the rocks staring into the desert's heat waves when he made his decision。 With some poles and two ponchos he rigged a litter between two horses。 With Maria Cristina's help； Hindeman was loaded into the litter and； holding the horses to a walk； they made their start。
It was slow going 。。。 yet by dusk they had covered fifteen miles and camped in a cluster of rocks near an intermittent stream。
Ben Hindeman's face was flushed and he looked bad。 Jordan stared down at the wounded man； considering the irony of the situation。 Only hours ago this man had been hunting him to kill and now he； Jordan； was trying to save the man from death by bullets he had himself fired！ And risking his own life to do it。
Rifle in hand； Trace Jordan walked out from camp。 The illness from his own wounds had cut down his weight。 He was lean and raw…boned； even tougher…looking than usual and his clothing was battered and worn from days and nights of travel。
Yet the years of wilderness living had conditioned him to a hard life and 。。。 he had gone only a few yards when he saw the tracks。 The tracks of a man walking。
A wounded man 。。。 a white man。
The man had staggered as he walked。 Once he had gone to his knees。 Absorbed in the trail； Trace Jordan followed it along for a half…mile。 Twice the man had fallen in that distance。 At the second place there was blood on the desert。
Jordan went up to some rocks and from the slight vantage point they gave him； began a minute examination of the terrain。 Suddenly； some distance north； he saw a dark object on the desert。
It might be a rock。 But there was a subtle difference that told him it was not。 He started north； walking fast。
Even before he reached the body he knew who it was。 Old Jacob Lantz had led many a foray against the Apache but he had led his last one。 He lay sprawled in the desert and he was dead。 But his body was neither cold nor stiff。
He had been shot three times but one of。 the wounds was at least a day old。 Evidently on the first day out from the overhang； Lantz had been wounded and his horse killed。 By some artifice he had evaded the Apache and started on。。。 on foot。
Today； probably within the last few hours； they had e up with him again。 And if they had killed him no longer ago than that； they must be close by。 They might have found the tracks of the four horses ing north。
Hurriedly he turned and made his way back to the rocks。 As he walked； he made plans。 Despite their weariness and Ben Hindeman's condition they must move on tonight。 Rarely would Apaches attack at night and they preferred not even to travel at night。 The border could not be more than fifteen to twenty miles away and the border was where lay the ranch at San Bemardino Springs。
Maria Cristina came swiftly to her feet when she saw his face and Jordan explained； holding back nothing at all。
Hindeman was conscious。 〃You two take out；〃 he said。 〃Small chance I'll make it； anyway。〃
〃You'll make it；〃 Jordan told him dryly。 〃You're too mean to die。〃
As soon as it was dark they loaded up and just before they rode off； Jordan built a fire and stacked fuel so it would fall into the flames。 Due north then； holding a course on the polestar； they rode。 The desert was broken and rough but they made good time。
〃Keep goin'；〃 Hindeman told them。 〃Don't pay me no mind。 If them Apaches get me it won't matter； anyway。〃
So they pushed on through the night and in the first gray of dawn； with the horses wearily plodding； they glimpsed far off a cluster of buildings。
At the same instant Maria Cristina called out； 〃Trace！〃
He turned in the saddle。 Behind them and to the east； not six hundred yards away； a dozen Indians sat their horses。 They had e out of an arroyo and were apparently as surprised as Jordan himself。
〃Keep moving；〃 he told her。 〃Keep moving no matter what。〃
They rode on； holding their pace。 Suddenly the Indians began to move out。 Their ponies began to trot。
Trace Jordan stepped up the pace。 The buildings were not more than five miles away now。 The Indians were very close and ing up rapidly。
Turning； Trace Jordan； lifting his Winchester； took careful aim。 He took up the slack on his trigger； took a deep breath； let part of it out； then took up more slack； then a little … the rifle leaped in his hands and a horse jumped and fell back； throwing his rider。
Twice more he fired； then； waiting to see the effectiveness of his shots； he raced after Maria Cristina and the litter。
With shrill yells the Indians came after him。 Suddenly； at the buildings； a rider appeared around the corner of a barn and started for them。 Behind him came other riders until seven were strung out； racing their horses。
Trace heard shooting and； turning his horse； he emptied his rifle at some two hundred yards distance。 An Indian on a paint pony fell from his horse and rolled over； got up； then fell again。 Then a horse shied violently at another shot and the Indians slowed up and spread out。
Jordan ran his horse after the litter； feeding the shells into his rifle。 When he looked back again the Indians had broken off their pursuit and turned away。
The riders from the ranch came up and swung their horses alongside。 Their leader was a small square…shouldered man with cold gray eyes。
〃Hindeman！〃 he said sharply。 〃Apaches get you？〃
〃No。〃 Ben Hindeman indicated Jordan。 〃He did。〃
On the second morning following their arrival at Rancho San Bernardino； Trace Jordan came out into the morning sunlight and pulled on his hat。 It was very early and John Slaughter was still at breakfast。 Ben Hindeman was s