‘Qui es mir persona Cuentale tus amores--’ They had crossed the grounds to Mamie’s tether; Bart’s left ankle was in his hand for a lift. He swung up behind on the spacious saddle-tree; Mamie darting off in the dark toward high country with her double burden. Hauntingly from behind: ‘Me la han matado Me la han matado--’ And from Bart: ‘That there song, Mister, has followed me all the way!’ * * * * * Miles back among the hills, they picked up the sorrel; still no sound of pursuit. Then it was northward among the foothills--the north star for Elbert’s eyes. At any moment he half expected to hear, ‘No, I’m not going to fall, Mister,’ but to-night it was: ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m sittin’ easy.’ Before daybreak they followed a little stream up higher--less volume but more noise all the way, and came to rest in the deep privacy of a sunless ravine. The second night, long after midnight, they heard the far scream of a train from the north. ‘The Mexican Pacific,’ suggested Elbert. ‘Where?’ said Bart. ‘That train--’ ‘The Mexican Pacific cuts north through San Isidro Gorge ten miles southeast of here. Ask old Mallet-head, that’s where we dragged him out of his Pullman--’ ‘You think we’ve crossed the Border--that this is a U.S. Transcontinental?’ ‘The States is a large place, but I sure thought you’d know home when you got there, Doc.’ But Elbert could hardly believe. A little later they caught a glimpse of the crawling serpent of coaches, faint lights for scales. Finally in the first daylight the two horses crossed the tracks--‘Safety First,’ authoritative like an Eleventh Commandment on a big water tank in the dusk of morning. XXIX HIGH COUNTRY THEY found the highway north of the railroad and turned their horses west. Bart looked a bit white and shaky but made no sign to stop. ‘Don’t you think we’d better lay up for a day or two in one of these towns, so you can rest, Bart?’ Elbert asked. ‘I’m not sleepy,’ said the other. ‘I’m gettin’ what I need outdoors, and aboard old Mallet-head. I always did need the outside of a horse to pull myself together.’ As it began to get hot in the morning, they veered into the hills and found shade, resting several hours. ‘How far west of Nogales do you think we are right now?’ Elbert asked. ‘About a hundred miles, I’d say. You see Fonseca lay a long ways west of the main road south from Nogales, and we’ve kept pushin’ west through the mountains since then. We can find out by askin’ along the railroad--’ ‘I’m figurin’ we might not have to go to San Forenso first to get to the cabin,’ Elbert said. ‘You see, San Forenso is still farther west from here than your father’s mine--’ All through the recent weeks in Mexico, Elbert had felt his mission would end when he safely crossed the Border with Bart, but now he knew a secret restless urge actually to reach the cabin, before letting even Mort Cotton know.