“Hano!--My son! My _son_!” he yelled, his stoic Indian reserve broken down by the intensity of the moment. Sid waved energetically to the other rider whose thick-set figure told that he was an older man, undoubtedly Colonel Colvin himself. Presently a hail came from them both, and then the younger man led on, showing the older one how to reach the cave mouth. After a tense, excited interval of waiting Colonel Colvin issued out of the medicine lodge and ran toward Sid. Hano stood by the lodge, the girl Nahla already passionately clinging to him. Honanta stalked toward his son as all the tribe stood by and watched. “Gad!--Sid, my boy, we’ve had _some_ ride!” burst out Colonel Colvin bluffly, as Sid went to his arms and Scotty gripped at his extended hand. “This Apache boy, Hano, found me at the ranch and told me you-all were in trouble. Seems that he escaped from some Mexicans out of the desert and reached the railroad at Tacna. There he sold all he had and bought a ticket to our station, Colvin’s, on the main line. ‘Knew my name, long time’ is all I could get out of him. But it was plain enough that you were in trouble down here and he wanted me to come quickly, so we took the train to the Ajo Mines, bought horses and rode here.--Hey! What the nation’s the matter with our John?” he broke off suddenly as his eyes fell on the occupant of the cot. “Oh, I jest nat’rally stopped a leetle lead in a fight we had with the greasers hyarabouts, Colonel,” grinned Big John. “Jest hed to, sir!--Them durned boys won’t be satisfied till they kills this ole puncher, nohow, I’m thinkin’!” he grimaced whimsically. “Lots doin’ ’round hyar, Colonel! Let them boys tell you all about it.” He sank back happily while Sid told him the whole story of the Red Mesa plaque, of the trip to Pinacate and then of Vasquez’s diabolical attempt and the consequent loss of all their water. Colonel Colvin listened sympathetically. Before Sid had finished he felt a touch on his elbow and turned to find Honanta facing him. “Does my white father remember the massacre of Apache Cave--and this?” the chief asked, his voice vibrating with emotion as his hand touched the gold double eagle dangling on his chest. “Yes--a bitter memory, chief!” replied Colonel Colvin. “The Army does not talk of it much. Curious!” he exclaimed, looking at the coin and evidently searching back in his memory. “Why, I was in that fight myself!--I remember that coin--or a piece just like it--I gave one to a poor squaw whom we found badly wounded with a baby in her arms. She was the only one left alive in all those heaps of slain Apaches. Gad, but that massacre was a devilish piece of business for the Army to have to do!”