“I’ve been moved!” he cried, with a start. And that start, so full of pain and queer dragging sensations as of a weighted body, brought back memory to him. His mind whirled and darkened. The sickening horror of close proximity to the rattlesnake, its smell and color and deadly intent, all possessed Adam again. Then it cleared away. What had happened to him? His hand seemed to have no feeling; just barely could he move it to his face, where the touch of wet cloth bandages told a story of his rescue by some one. Probably the Indians had returned. It had been the whistle of a horse that had thrilled him. “I’ve--been--saved!” whispered Adam, and he grew dizzy. His eyes closed. Dim shapes seemed to float over the surface of his mind; and there were other strange answerings of his being to this singular deliverance. Then he heard voices--some low, and others deep and guttural. Voices of Indians! How strong the spirit of life in him! “I--I wasn’t ready--to die,” he whispered. Gleams of sunlight low down, slanting on the palm leaves, turning them to gold, gave him the idea that the time was near sunset. In the corner of the hut stood ollas and bags which had not been there before, and on the ground lay an Indian blanket. A shadow crossed the sunlit gleams. An Indian girl entered. She had very dark skin and straight hair as black as night. Upon seeing Adam staring at her with wide-open eyes she uttered a cry and ran out. A hubbub of low voices sounded outside the shack. Then a tall figure entered; it was that of an Indian, dressed in the ragged clothes of a white man. He was old, his dark bronze face like a hard, wrinkled mask. “How?” he asked, gruffly, as he bent over Adam. He had piercing black eyes. “All right--good,” replied Adam, trying to smile. He sensed kindliness in this old Indian. “White boy want dig gold--get lost--no grub--heap sick belly?” queried the Indian, putting a hand on Adam’s flat abdomen. “Yes--you bet,” replied Adam. “Hahh! Me Charley Jim--heap big medicine man. Me fix um. Snake bite no hurt.... White boy sick bad--no heap grub--long time.” “All right--Charley Jim,” replied Adam. “Hahh!” Evidently this exclamation was Charley Jim’s expression for good. He arose and backed away to the opening that appeared blocked by dark-skinned, black-haired Indians. Then he pointed at one of them. Adam saw that he indicated the girl who had first come to him. She appeared very shy. Adam gathered the impression that she had been the one who had saved him. “Charley Jim, who found me--who saved me from that rattlesnake?” The old Indian understood Adam well enough. He grinned and pointed at the young girl, and pronounced a name that sounded to Adam like, “Oella.” “When? How long ago? How many days?” asked Adam. Charley Jim held up three fingers, and with that he waved the other Indians from the opening and went out himself.