The big brown horse began to limp. Raquel looked at Lois’ watch by the light of the moon. It was after twelve, clear and beautiful. They had been riding for four hours. They must have come at least twelve miles, perhaps fourteen, she judged. Yet about them stretched only the silvery desert. The old woman had had the usual native’s idea of distances. Looking back the way they had come there was nothing to be seen, and ahead of them the two dark spots had grown steadily larger; they were apparently two rocky foothills thrusting into the desert. If they could make that spot tonight, Raquel thought, then by daylight she could see where they were. Lois did not ask again to stop. She did not speak at all. Two hours more of silent riding passed before they stood in the shadow of a hill at the foot of which the sands of the desert washed like the sea. There they stopped. Raquel dismounted and spoke to Lois, who was sitting drooped in the saddle with bent head. She was past speaking, her eyes closed. “Asleep in her saddle, poor kid,” breathed Raquel. Lois slipped gently into Raquel’s arms and was carried to a soft spot where she lay without so much as stirring. Raquel leaned over and listened for a moment to the quiet breathing. Then she lay down close to her charge and fell asleep, while the pinto drooped his head above his mistress. It was nearly seven when Raquel waked and looked about. She saw that these sentinels in the desert were not real foothills. No little water courses wound their way among the crevices. The horses would have to go dry for a while, though Raquel could scarcely bear not giving the pinto a sip from the canteens. They did not seem to mind it, however, and after all they had drunk their fill last night. [Illustration: IT WAS STILL COOL ON THE DESERT WHEN THEY RODE AWAY OVER THE SANDS] From the top of the hill she saw far off to the east a valley of trees, in the center of which she knew El Escondido must lie, for behind them rose the foothills, just as she remembered them from that night. Only three weeks before--less than that! But she had lost count of the exact number of days that had passed since then. She came down and found Lois awake. “Lois, when I have made this grass and wood catch fire, I’ll give you the best breakfast you ever had,” she promised cheerily. The fire caught from her burning glass. She made a little stove of stones about it, and produced from the saddle bags a tiny frying pan, into which she poured a bit of the oil. From her pockets she took four good-sized, mottled brown eggs and broke them into the pan. “A ground bird of some sort laid them. I know they’re good,” laughed Raquel. They were delicious and satisfying, making a good meal with crackers and water.