Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 148: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

458 the fear of thirst. If something could hap- pen while he was still beside himself with that fear, there was a faint hope that Concha might escape. If he had one swig of water to tide him over until the cold night, to clear out his brain, then that hope was gone. As she was reflecting over this state of affairs, something did happen. But it was a disaster—not a disaster for Ladley, but for the girl, and it promised to bring utter defeat to all her schemes, and her desperate fight for liberty. Over there toward the low western bank of the canyon, she saw a little water-hole. It was a narrow strip of blue, a pool dammed up by bowlders, and dunes, and chaparral, and probably only a few inches deep. Near by there were the adobe ruins of an Indian xacalli. This ruined hut, and the fact that the blue was not shimmering was enough to prove to the girl that it was real water. A moment after she had seen it, she felt Ladley’s arm stiffen. The horse stumbled to a walk, then stopped, its head turned to- ward the west, its nostrils dilated and sniffing. ley had not led the horse into that canyon, it was the horse that was doing the lead- ing. “Where you going, gsked breathlessly. “Over there. We're saved. Can’t you see it?” “T see a xacalli—and I wouldn’t be sur- prised if the Sheriff of Neutral Saddle thas posted a guard there.” “No matter—I'll take a chance on that. I’ve got to have a drink, or Vl go mad.” “A drink of what?” “Of that water—don’t care if it’s gyp water, or copper, or anything else. I’m going crazy.” “You're crazy already.” “What do you call that—that stuff over there under those banks?” “T call it mesquite.” “f mean that blue, that stretch of cool blue?” He pressed his heels into the eager mount, and headed across the river bed. But the ¢irl put her hand on the reins. “Took here, pard. I didn’t know you pard?” the girl The fact of the matter was Lad-. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. were that far gone. Can’t you tell a mirage when you see one?” ‘““A mirage?” he stammered. ‘“ That ain’t a mirage, damn you! It’s water, so help me God!” “You're mad. You always find a mirage right under adobe cliffs like that where the air’s shut out, and it’s hottest. Don’t ride there, pard, I beg you.” ‘“Why do you beg me—a half a mile and I'll prove it!” “You'll prove you’re crazy! Don’t you know that’s one thing a prospector never dares to do—to ride to a mirage. It means your mind goes over the brink.” His hand, which was thrust in front of her, holding the reins, shook as if a galvanic current had gripped it. The wrist curled. She put her hand gently upon his. ‘“ Ride on. Don’t take a chance on that adobe hut. Some one will get you. And don’t take a chance on that—” No, he could take a chance on the hut perhaps, it was obviously a deserted ruin. But he could not take a chance on proving himself mad. He pressed his heels again into the mount, leading it back. He even had to lead its head around. The bronc, evidently pos- sessed of the devil, wanted to play its part in this hideous joke. He gave it a vicious kick. But even then it was perverse. He couldn’t get it back to its trot. It shambled on sullenly, dejected and forlorn. If Ladley could have seen its head, he would have observed that it was watching that blue strip out of the corner of its eyes; and that its nostrils were distended, and sniffing - frantically. It was a turning point. The girl had won. And the rest was pitifully easy. They rode on, and came out of the canyon facing west with the murderous afternoon sun blazing in their faces. “Which way are you going, pard?” the girl asked. “South,” he said doggedly. “Why do you ask that?” “Youre heading north now.” She pointed to the sierra in Mexico. ‘“ Those are the Big Mesas—” COMIC OO KS €O