Adam could not for the moment safely trust himself to speak. The expanse of desert shown him, thus magnified into its true perspective, now stretched out with the nature of its distance and nudity strikingly clear. It did seem to glare a menace into Adam’s face. It made him tremble. Yet there was fascination in the luring, deceitful Superstition range, and a sublimity in the measureless sweep of haze and purple slope leading north to the great peaks, and a compelling beckoning urge in the mystery and unknown that seemed to abide beyond the bronze ridge which marked Adam’s objective point. “I’ll never forget your--your kindness,” said Adam, finally turning to Dismukes. The prospector shook hands with him, and his grip was something to endure. “Kindness is nothin’. I owed you what a man owes to himself. But don’t forget anythin’ I told you.” “I never will,” replied Adam. “Will you let me pay you for the--the burro and outfit?” Adam made this request hesitatingly, because he did not know the law of the desert, and he did not want to offer what might be an offense. “Sure you got plenty of money?” queried Dismukes, gruffly. “Indeed I have,” rejoined Adam, eagerly. “Then I’ll take what the burro an’ grub cost.” He named a sum that appeared very small to Adam, and, receiving the money in his horny hands, he carefully deposited it in a greasy buckskin sack. “Wansfell, may we meet again,” he said in farewell. “Good luck an’ good by.... Don’t forget.” “Good by,” returned Adam, unable to say more. With a whoop at the four burros and a slap on the haunch of one of them, Dismukes started them southward. They trotted ahead with packs bobbing and wagging. What giant strides Dismukes took! He seemed the incarnation of dogged strength of manhood, yet something ludicrous clung about him in his powerful action as well as in his immense squat form. He did not look back. Adam slapped Jinny on the haunch and started her westward. The hour was still early morning. A rosy freshness of the sunrise still slanted along the bronze slopes of the range and here and there blossoms of _ocatilla_ shone red. The desert appeared to be a gently rising floor of gravel, sparsely decked with ironwood and mesquite, and an occasional cactus, that, so far as Adam could see, did not harbor a living creature. The day did not seem to feel hot, but Adam knew from the rising heat veils that it was hot. Excitement governed his feelings. Actually he was on the move, with an outfit and every hope to escape possible pursuers, with the absolute surety of a hard yet wonderful existence staring him in the face. Not until he felt a drag in his steps did he think of his weakened condition. Resting awhile in the shade of a tree, he let the burro graze on the scant brush, and then went on again. Thus he traveled on, with frequent rests, until the heat made it imperative for him to halt till afternoon. About the middle of the afternoon he packed and set forth again.