He may have only gone down in the valley to the waterhole. There’s one not far away, I think. I’ll go to the edge of the mesa and get a view. If he’s not too far, you can come with me after him. Just sit here and watch me. I won’t go out of your sight or hearing, and I won’t be gone five minutes. You won’t be afraid?”

She sat down obediently where he indicated, her eyes large with fear, for she dreaded the desert’s loneliness more than any fear she’d ever known.

“I promise I won’t go beyond your sight and call,” he reassured her. Smiling, he turned toward his horse, swung himself into the saddle and galloped to the edge of the mesa.

She watched him ride away, almost forgetting her fears. Her heart beat strangely with the memory of his smile. Its protection seemed to linger behind him and quiet her anxiety.

He rode straight to the east, then turned slowly and skirted the horizon, riding north along the edge of the mesa. She saw him shade his eyes with his hand and look in all directions. At last, after a prolonged gaze due north, he wheeled his horse around and rode quickly back to her. His face was serious as he dismounted.

“I saw him, but it’s no use. He has a three- or four-mile head start, and he’s climbed a steep hill. When he reaches the top of the next mesa he has a straight course in front of him, and it’s probably downhill after that. It might take me three or four hours to catch him, and I’m not even sure I could then. We’ll have to get along with Billy. Do you feel equal to riding now? Or should you rest again?”

“Oh, I can ride, but—I can’t take your horse. What will you do?”

“I’ll do nicely,” he answered, smiling again. “Our progress will be slower than if we had both horses, of course. I wish I’d taken off his saddle! It would be more comfortable for you than this. But I was searching so anxiously for the rider that I didn’t give much attention to the horse except to hobble him quickly. And when I found you, you needed all my attention. Now it might be good for you to lie down and rest until I get packed up. It won’t take me long.”

She curled down to rest until he was ready to fold up the canvas she was lying on, watching his easy movements as he put together the few articles of the pack and arranged the saddle for her comfort. Then he strode over to her.

“With your permission,” he said and, stooping, picked her up lightly in his arms and placed her on the horse.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you’re not up to the exertion of mounting in the ordinary way. You’ll need every bit of strength for the ride. You’re weaker than you realize.”

Her laugh rippled out faintly.

“You make me feel like a baby. I didn’t know what was happening until you put me here. You must have the strength of a giant.