When he recovered consciousness he was first aware of the face of Carmena. In his first daze, he fancied that he was out on the far side of the Basin, lying upon the sand under the cliff where the Gila monster had bitten his hand. The girl's eyes were clouded with the same look of profound concern that he had then seen in their shadowy depths. But as his own gaze cleared he noticed two marked differences in her appearance. One of her pale cheeks was streaked with crimson, and the dark eyes were wide not with dread alone. They gazed down at him heavy with the anguish of mingled grief and yearning. He knew that he was looking into the girl's inmost heart. A hand was thrust between their faces--a little dimpled hand that held a bowl of red liquid. Elsie's voice quavered urgently: "Let me fix your hurt with the dragon sap, Mena. He's alive again." Carmena's long lashes drooped upon her white cheeks. She drew back. Lennon turned aside his violently aching head. Across the living room he saw Pete cauterizing a bullet wound on the bare arm of a fellow Navaho with the astringent red sap of the sangre de dragon tree. Elsie noticed Lennon's roving look of inquiry. "They shot the other one on the ladder," she explained. "But Slade isn't hurt, and he hauled the ladder up. Cochise can't get us now." "Not now," whispered Carmena. "But if Slade----" Her low-pitched voice broke and hushed to a frightened silence. Slade swaggered in from the anteroom and stood grinning as if very well satisfied with what he saw. CHAPTER XX INTO THE FIRE Carmena rallied and smiled up at the big trader with a show of trustful confidence. "I knew you'd keep your part of the deal, Mr. Slade," she said. "You've fought off Cochise and saved us, and there's a good big hole in his bunch. All we need do now is wait for your punchers to come in and wipe out the rest." "Sure!" agreed Slade. "I done it. Now I got a dead cinch all 'round." He drew his revolver and twirled the cylinder as if to make certain that it had been fully reloaded. "Yep--a dead cinch. With me up here, Cochise won't try no more pole ladders. You and my Cookie Gal better hustle up some feed. Ain't had nothing but bacon and flapjacks since I left." Elsie fluttered across to light her charcoal brazier. But Carmena lingered beside Lennon. "Huh," muttered Slade. "Where'd sonny boy git hit? Ain't plunked bad, is he?" "Oh, no. I----" "No, not fatal," Carmena broke in on Lennon's disclaimer of serious injury. She gave Slade a significant side glance. "No, I'm sure it won't prove fatal--just cut the bone a bit. Jack'll get over it all right if he keeps perfectly quiet." Slade's big face took on a look of solemn concern. "Quiet--huh? Can't let him take no risks. He's worth ten thousand to me. Here, you, Pete--and you----" A guttural command in Navaho and a careless wave of the revolver brought Pete and his wounded but still active companion hurrying forward.