"Oh, I'm glad you mean that," said Dick, laughing. "Well, I've often wondered how Belding ever came to give Blanco Sol to me." "He was jealous. I think he wanted to get rid of Sol." "No? Why, Nell, he'd give Laddy or Jim one of the whites any day." "Would he? Not Devil or Queen or White Woman. Never in this world! But Dad has lots of fast horses the boys could pick from. Dick, I tell you Dad wants Blanco Sol to run himself out--lose his speed on the desert. Dad is just jealous for Diablo." "Maybe. He surely has strange passion for horses. I think I understand better than I used to. I owned a couple of racers once. They were just animals to me, I guess. But Blanco Sol!" "Do you love him?" asked Nell; and now a warm, blue flash of eyes swept his face. "Do I? Well, rather." "I'm glad. Sol has been finer, a better horse since you owned him. He loves you, Dick. He's always watching for you. See him raise his head. That's for you. I know as much about horses as Dad or Laddy any day. Sol always hated Diablo, and he never had much use for Dad." Dick looked up at her. "It'll be--be pretty hard to leave Sol--when I go away." Nell sat perfectly still. "Go away?" she asked, presently, with just the faintest tremor in her voice. "Yes. Sometimes when I get blue--as I am to-day--I think I'll go. But, in sober truth, Nell, it's not likely that I'll spend all my life here." There was no answer to this. Dick put his hand softly over hers; and, despite her half-hearted struggle to free it, he held on. "Nell!" Her color fled. He saw her lips part. Then a heavy step on the gravel, a cheerful, complaining voice interrupted him, and made him release Nell and draw back. Belding strode into view round the adobe shed. "Hey, Dick, that darned Yaqui Indian can't be driven or hired or coaxed to leave Forlorn River. He's well enough to travel. I offered him horse, gun, blanket, grub. But no go." "That's funny," replied Gale, with a smile. "Let him stay--put him to work." "It doesn't strike me funny. But I'll tell you what I think. That poor, homeless, heartbroken Indian has taken a liking to you, Dick. These desert Yaquis are strange folk. I've heard strange stories about them. I'd believe 'most anything. And that's how I figure his case. You saved his life. That sort of thing counts big with any Indian, even with an Apache. With a Yaqui maybe it's of deep significance. I've heard a Yaqui say that with his tribe no debt to friend or foe ever went unpaid. Perhaps that's what ails this fellow." "Dick, don't laugh," said Nell. "I've noticed the Yaqui. It's pathetic the way his great gloomy eyes follow you." "You've made a friend," continued Belding. "A Yaqui could be a real friend on this desert. If he gets his strength back he'll be of service to you, don't mistake me. He's welcome here. But you're responsible for him, and you'll have trouble keeping him from massacring all the Greasers in Forlorn River."