“Oh, snakes, Rakie, I don’t know how I stood it! And just for a lot of cows----” “That was pretty bad,” Raquel admitted, “but we’re safe now anyway. Tell me the rest.” “So then Manuel went back. I heard your automatic, and yelled without waiting. I had to know if it was you, and to let you know I was there all right.” Georgie was tired with his recital and lay back wearily. He wanted only a drink of water, but Raquel took some figs and tortillas from the saddle bags, and ate them while the horses grazed near by. Georgie slept, but Raquel kept anxious watch. When he woke later in the morning she explained that she wanted to reconnoiter a bit, and would climb afoot up the canyon. Some time later she returned. “We’re lost, Georgie,” was her report. “But I could find the way back to Escondido by just following up the canyon to the source of the stream, I think. Then when we get past that mesa our sense of direction should locate us. It wouldn’t be safe for a few days yet though.” Georgie’s reply was a light-headed laugh. “I shot Manuel four times while you were gone,” he said, “and there he comes again.” He pointed wildly over Raquel’s shoulder. She turned involuntarily, but only the cool green of the palms was there. She took Georgie’s feverish head between her hands. The boy was delirious, quite out of his head. Of that day and the next Raquel can not think even now without distress. She moved farther down the canyon with the horses and her now unconscious Georgie, for she was afraid of being pursued even to this retreat. The place must be known because of the water here. Yet here they must stay. She could not take Georgie out into the blazing sun, away from the only water and shade of which she was sure. She bathed his face and his body in the cool stream, and laid him on a soft sandy place. On the second day Georgie, quiet and pale, woke to his senses from a long sleep. He felt perfectly all right, he insisted, and was hungry. Raquel had been expecting this, hoping for it. And she had caught a strange little creature like a possum, and had had a stew simmering in her little pan for several hours. They drank deeply of the spring water, filled their canteens, then ate the remaining figs. They had decided to make a break for Escondido that night. They would have to have food. The little animal she had caught was the only edible thing that Raquel had seen.