inferred that the Apaches, either through overconfidence or
because of their superstitious fear of the mountains, which they
supposed inhabited by spirits, had camped on the edge of the
valley, and were signaling to their other party. Accordingly the
Mexicans renewed the chase with increased vigor.

As McKee bent over his captive's feet, piling against them the
burning ends of the sticks, the rattlesnake on the sahuaro,
incited by the fire above, struggled free from the impaling
thorns by a desperate effort, and dropped on the back of the
half-breed. It struck its fangs into his neck. McKee, springing
up with an energy that scattered the sticks he was piling, tore
the reptile loose, hurled it upon the ground, and stamped it into
the earth. Then he picked up one of the brands and with it
cauterized the wound. All the while he was cursing volubly--the
snake, himself, and even Dick Lane, who was now lying in a dead
faint caused by the torture.

"Damn such a prospector! Not a drop of whisky in his outfit! I'd
slit his tongue fer him if he wasn't already done fer. I must
keep movin'--movin', or I'm a dead man. I must hustle along to
the mountains, leadin' my horse. Up there I'll find yarbs to
cure snake-bite that my Cherokee grandmother showed me. The
Rurales will have to get the other ponies but some day I'll come
back after Lane's cache."

A half-hour later the Mexican guards appeared upon the scene, and
unbound Lane's unconscious form from the sahuaro, which the fire
had consumed to a foot of his bowed head. They deluged his face
and back, and bathed his tortured feet with the contents of their