“No, I don’t suppose there is; but I’m goin’ to try and do as he wished. If the old man had been all bad he would have put Molly into some institution and forgot her. Whatever he did that was wrong—he was good to her. So don’t talk, Tony. These things square themselves in time.” Johnny got up and covered Kent’s face. “Where’s his horse?” the boy asked. “Back where I lef’ mine,” Madeiras answered, pointing to a little park of stunted cedars. “No matter,” Johnny went on, “we got to leave him here or—say! We’ll throw him on my horse and tote him to the trees. We can tie him up between some of those cedars so the coyotes won’t be able to git at him. Give me a hand; we got to git movin’.” When they arrived at the trees they put a rope around Kent’s body, and passed the end of it through a noose in another rope which they had looped over the top of one of the trees. By this arrangement they were able to lift the body from the ground and raise it to a place of safety. Johnny had knotted the ropes when he suddenly came to attention. Madeiras glanced at him sharply. “What ees eet?” the Basque asked. Johnny had his hands cupped to his ears. “Listen,” he whispered. Faint, far off, came the measured, significant sound which had alarmed the boy. The Basque’s expression showed that he, too, heard it. “Do you get it?” Johnny asked. “_Tum, tum, tu-um, tum, tum_—it’s a finger drum.” “_Sí_,” Tony nodded, his voice dry, his hand keeping time with the beat. “Eet’s the death chant. Old——” “Thunder Bird’s got Gallup!” Johnny finished for the Basque. “_That’s_ what is waitin’ for us on the top of this mountain! All we got to do is to go into that Piute camp and take Gallup away from them. And we’ve got to do it with gab. I know Injuns. Every minute we wait here only makes our chances slimmer. Believe me, if we’re goin’ to save Gallup—we’ve got to travel.” CHAPTER XXXII THE DEBT IS PAID A strange sight awaited Johnny and the Basque. Thunder Bird’s braves had surprised Gallup and captured him. Roddy, his deputy—Sol Ahrens—and Kent had bolted. So, without a shot having been fired, old Aaron had been marched to the camp at the top of the mountain. The rock formation looked very much as if it was of volcanic origin, a huge crater or bowl having been carved out where the peak of the mountain must once have risen. In this bowl was the Piute camp. Johnny and Madeiras, from the point they had gained above the Indians, were able to see what went on. Gallup was tied to a stake. Thunder Bird sat facing him, and squatting in a circle about the doomed man were at least fifty Indians. Two or three squaws moved around in back of the circle, gathering rocks and depositing them in piles within reach of their lords. “They’re goin’ to stone him,” Johnny told the Basque. “It’s a good old Piute trick.”