The start back was made so late that the party did not reach the arsenic spring until dusk. Lennon had convinced himself that Slade planned to return to Dead Hole and at least make a pretense of earning the ten thousand dollars. His own scheme was to seize Slade's horse and make a run for the railway. But first he must wait to be guided back through the devil's dooryard of crags and clefts. He fell asleep with his hand upon the butt of his revolver and the revolver under his body. He awoke at dawn to find his wrists lashed together. One of the Navahos stood on guard beside him. The revolver was gone. Slade and the others were already eating. No food was brought to Lennon. But after he had been roughly tossed into his saddle by the Navahos, Slade brought a drink of water from the arsenic spring and offered it with mock hospitality. "It's a dry ride," he urged. "Take a good swaller, son. It'll keep you from gitting thirsty." Lennon looked at him steady-eyed. "May I ask what you expect to gain by this, Slade?" "Gain?--me?" The trader stared back no less unwaveringly. "I just done it to save you gitting in trouble. You're too careless--way you handle a gun. Might hurt somebody one of these here days. Anyhow, this'll help you think things over. Sabe?" The poison water splashed down upon the dry rocks. Slade mounted, to ride off after the guide. The other Navahos lashed Lennon to his saddle and drove his pony before them, along with the pack horse. Though the old Navaho found a rather shorter way out through the jumble maze of the bad lands, Lennon's mouth and throat were dust dry and his tongue swollen before the party reached the trail. The thirst torture continued until the arrival at the pueblo. There Slade at last gave drink to his prisoner and disclosed his purpose, with a pretense of indignation. "You ought to be strung up for trying to shoot me, Lennon. But I'm an easy-going man--easy and forgiving. You only got to make out your report and send for that twenty thousand. When it comes on, I'll let you go." "Very kind of you, I'm sure," replied Lennon, after he had drained the last drop of water from the jar. "However, I am in no hurry to make my report. I shall send it on and draw your half of the money--after you have kept your bargain with regard to Cochise." Slade deliberately drew his revolver and aimed it between Lennon's eyes. "Just remember, your riding in the way you did was to set you to thinking," he reminded. "This ain't no joke. Guess you'll agree now to git started on that report, huh?" Lennon smiled at the revolver and the still more menacing steel-white eyes that glared at him along the barrel. "Is it not time you set to thinking yourself, Slade?" he suggested. "Alive, I am worth ten thousand dollars to you, as soon as you keep your bargain. Dead, I would not be worth a penny to you or any one else."