Ruler whined eagerly. Then, snuffing the trail, he climbed on upward, his bony rat tail swinging in circles as occasional yelps of discovery came from him. Scotty climbed after and was soon high in the rocks on the mountain flank, with the green plain of the Pass spread out far and wide below him. * * * * * Meanwhile Big John and the two Indians had ridden on swiftly. The Pass narrowed and in ten minutes more they were at the base of the two low hills guarding the gap. Hano looked around him inquiringly. “Where is the white boy?” he asked Niltci, anxiously. “Oh, he’s back thar a-piece--he’s a slow rider,” laughed Big John reassuringly. Hano regarded them suspiciously a moment as Niltci translated. Then he shrugged his shoulders, his keen eyes searching the groves of mesquite and palo verde for signs of the laggard. A bed was made for Blaze under the shelter of a dense bunch of creosotes and he was tied there with a pan of water handy. Then the horses were tethered in hiding behind that growth of mesquite under the rock base which they had noted from down the Pass. Niltci and Big John unlimbered their rifles and climbed to a vantage point on the low rocky spur jutting out to the east of the main range. They were not many minutes too soon! Over the waste of sand dunes to the north a small white cavalcade was toiling slowly along toward them. The guerrillas, about a dozen of them, they noted, were riding two by two. They were clad in white, with huge white sombreros on head and the shining bands of cartridge belts crossing their chests at a slant. Over their backs jutted up the slender muzzles of Mausers. Dandy black boots heavily spurred in silver gleamed through the dust along the flanks of their horses. At the head of the column alongside the leader rode a man clad in a striped serapé, and at sight of him Big John’s eyes began to smoulder. He pointed him out to Niltci. “Thar’s that Vasquez, the pisen, ornery, li’l horned toad that’s makin’ all the trouble, Niltci!” he growled. “The mine ain’t wuth shootin’ nobody fer, though. We’ll hev to throw an all-fired scare into him with a leetle fancy shootin’, sabe?” Niltci grunted understanding and they both watched the cavalcade approaching. As they entered the Pass below, Hano’s wild eyes glared up at them. Now was the time for his great sacrifice! In just a little while longer these Mexicans would be through the gap and nearing those mountains whose secret he felt bound to protect. They must never be allowed to remain here, to trace out those tell-tale tracks! He looked up at Big John for the signal to dash down to the ponies and begin that race that could only end in the arid wastes of the Camino del Diablo. Once out there, they could shoot him with those long-range rifles if they were able. But die of thirst they all surely would! As for himself, he trusted in his desert knowledge to survive until it would be safe to return to Red Mesa.