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Show THE MORMON LION showed them to him. " Look- ten gold. I pay you all when you set us on the road safe ahead of all pursuers." hi f f h His beadlike eyes glistened. To a sub-c e o t ese s ualid southern Indians it was an enormous sum of r:foney. I tossed him two of the cmns by way of earnest, and waved to h1m to shnt. , He turned the mare loose, Jerked at the mules Jed-rope, and dug his moccasined heel~ into the flanks of the pony. As the ammals broke mto a lope I told Lucy to follow. She urged her pony mto t_he same easy gait, riding with hghtness and grace desp1te the novelty of her seat. I brought up the rear, the Jon~ rangy trot of my big horse keepmg me close behmd her. . h h We soon found that our gUlde knew w at e was about. Though he by no means followed a beehne, he held to a far straighter course than I could have laid out. What was more, he knew where to find the clearest and least broken country. Except on an occasional piece of rough ground or a steep ascent, the Indian kept his pony at a steady Jo e while the sun sagged down the weste.rn sky. Eee~ when it sank in fiery splendour behmd the barren desert ridges, he kept on at the same steadf. pace, stopping only to water the ammals at an a-kaline spring. 1 1 Twilight found us cuttin~ across the ?wer s opes of the Beaver Dam Mountams, several m1les beyond the Santa Clara River. Suddenly Ankotash veered to the left around a ridge and struck mto the Cahfornia trail. Springing off h1s pony, he crept across the road three or four times, With hiS flat nose ahuost in ,t hWe dhuast td. o you find? Any of them a h ea d of us·l " I queried, tense with susp;,ns~. , , Ugh," he replied. S1gn no fresh. Payum old" . g H~ put the halter rope of the mule mto my hand, THE MORMON LION 305 and I counted out the promised coins. He sprang UJ?On h1s pony and rode off into the deepening gloom ':'1thout a :vord of farewell. I swung my horse along: s1de Lucy s pony and bent down to kiss the dear girl's upturned face. "Now, darling," I said, "we are really started. But It IS seventy-five miles or more from here to the crossmg of the Muddy. We must make it by morning. R1de to save yourself ,not your pony. You underslandl" "Yes, David." · " Keep alongsid•: me, and be sure to let me know when your strength fails." "I will, David." At a word frorr me, our horses started up the road on a jog-trot, the pack mule following docilely at my horse's h~els. The last of the twilight vanished as we came up mto the pass through the rugged mountains. But the sky was very clear. In the famt starlight we could see the well-beaten road a few feet before us and the horses could see it much better than Lucy and myself. Through the pass I held the face to a walk. We then came to the many miles o easy slope down to the Rio Virgen. Much of the distance we travelled at a jog or on a lope. At last we reached the river. I allowed the animals a few sips of the tepid water, and started on downstream. At midnight I called a halt. When I lifted Lucy down from her saddle, she was not able to stand alone. She would have fallen had I not laid her on the ground. I took the pack saddle from the mule as we_ll as the riding saddles from the horses. After the ammals had rolled, I picketed them out to graze on the rich bunch-grass. Lucy and I ate our fill of dried venison and the parched corn that I had found m Waller's saddlebags. I examined the food on the pack saddle, but took none out of the bags in which 1t was packed. Out in the desert we might have need of every ounce. u |
