At his side was the distracting rattle of a match box, the strike of the stick. A face appeared--‘Mexicali’ Burton--all below the eyes, a gleaming black of blood. ‘Florabel!’ ‘Papa!’ ‘You and the other two--get into the sedan--before they explode the second powder house. One of my own natives probably. Get into--get into the sedan--’ subdued, sincere, not an extra syllable. Father and daughter--they had found each other. Cal and Slim had found each other. Elbert bent. ‘I didn’t mean to be so long--’ he said. The one arm tightened around him. Another match was struck. Florabel screamed at the sight of her father’s face. ‘Mexicali’ drew the hollow of his sleeve down over it. ‘Shut up, Flo’,’ he said in the same subdued way. ‘Just a scratch. Pile into the sedan--’ ‘I can’t move.’ ‘You must--who’s this lyin’ across your lap?’ ‘That’s Imogen. She’s fainted. She did it before.’ ‘I’ll put her into the sedan. Come on--’ ‘I can’t--’ ‘I’ll lift you in.’ ‘I can’t drive--’ The sentences shot back and forth; even Cal Monroid spoke: ‘Speakin’ of drivin’--that’s the Kid’s job--’ all while the second match burned. ‘Sure, Elbert’ll drive,’ from Slim. Elbert bent again. ‘We’ve got to go to the sedan.’ ‘Yes--’ from under his lips, but she did not stir. ‘Come on. Won’t you help me?’ ‘Oh, yes--’ ‘Can you walk?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Come then--they’re putting Imogen in.’ ‘But you--’ ‘I’m going with you--’ ‘Oh!’ He felt the queer uncertainty of her body, as she gained her feet, yet she seemed trying to help him. Yes, she had promised to help; her one hand was actually trying to lift him, at the same time holding on. Florabel and Imogen were in the back of the car. He couldn’t see if they were rightly in the seats. Elbert took the wheel, and drew Mary Gertling in after him. Her hand didn’t feel right. Another hand was now thrust in through the door after Mary was seated--‘Mexicali’s’--wet, hot, hairy. ‘You’ve got to get there, young fellow!’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Clear through to Nogales.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘I’ll vouch for Elbert,’ came from Cal, who seemed standing just behind Burton. ‘But how about Mamie?’ ‘Slim and me’ll take care of her.’ ‘I ain’t gone over her, but she’s on her feet.’ This last was from Slim. ‘We’ll keep her for you.’ ‘You can’t take the road you came by--not for a ways.’ ‘Mexicali’ went on, thickly. ‘Keep goin’ toward the derricks. Follow the wheel-tracks; they’ll work you back to the main road later. Use your lamps--when you have to--’ ‘Papa--’ ‘Don’t bother me!’ The voice was thick, as if ‘Mexicali’s’ throat was filling with blood. ‘We’re stayin’ here, but these oil wells aren’t a hell of a lot, compared to the baggage you’re carryin’, young fellow. Clear through to Nogales, do you hear?’ ‘He’ll get through, Mister,’ said Cal, and then the same voice trailed, ‘So long, Kid.’ XIII VALLEJO’S LINES