The great sink-hole was beginning to seethe, to give off its poisonous vapors and fill up like a bowl with its own heat; but he had escaped it and fled to the heights while Pisen-face Lynch stayed below. He was still at the ranch, gasping for breath before the water-fan which served to keep the men there alive; and as he breathed that bone-dry air and felt the day's heat coming on, he was cursing the name of Calhoun. Yes, cursing long and loud, or deep and low, and vowing to wreak his revenge; for before he had worked for hire, but now he had a grievance of his own. He would take up Wunpost's trail like an Indian on the warpath, like a warrior who had been robbed of his medicine-bag; he would come on the run and with blood in his eye--that is, if the heat had not killed him. For his pride was involved, and his name as a trailer and an all-around desert-man; he had been led into a trap by a boy in his twenties, and it was up to him to demonstrate or quit. Wunpost went his way tranquilly, for there was no one to pursue him; and ten days later he rode down Jail Canyon with his pack-mule loaded with ore. It had been his boast that he would return in two weeks with a mule-load of Sockdolager gold; but Billy, as usual, had taken his boast lightly and came running with news of her own. "Hello!" she called. "Say, you can't guess what I've done--I've taught Red and Good Luck to be friends. They eat their supper together!" "Good!" observed Wunpost, "and not to change the subject, what's the chances for a white man to eat? I've been living on jerky for three days." "Why, they're good," returned Billy, suddenly quieted by his manner. "What's the matter--have you had any trouble?" "Oh, no!" blustered Wunpost, "nah, nothing like that--the other fellow had all the trouble. Did Pisen-face Lynch and that Injun come back? Well, I'll bet they were dragging their tracks out!" "They didn't come through here, but I saw them on the trail--it must have been a week ago. But what's all that that you've got in your pack-sacks--have you been out and got some more ore?" "Why, sure," answered Wunpost, deftly easing off his kyacks and lowering the load to the ground. "Didn't I tell you I was going to get some?" "Yes, but----" "But what?" he demanded, looking down on her arrogantly, and Wilhelmina became interested in the dog. "You have such a funny way of talking," she said at last, "and besides--would you mind letting me look at it?" "I sure would!" replied Wunpost; "you leave them sacks alone. And any time my word ain't as good as gold----" "Oh, of course it's good!" she protested, and he took her at her word. "All right, then--I've got the gold." "Oh, have you really?" she cried, and as he rolled his eyes accusingly she laughed and bit her lip. "That's just _my_ way of talking," she explained, rather lamely. "I mean I'm glad--and surprised."