with dust-gray clumps of mesquite and thorny chaparral. Basking in the
burning sand and alkali lay several Gila monsters, which raised their
heads and hissed with wide-open jaws as several faint, whip-like
reports echoed flatly over the desolate plain, showing that even they
had learned that danger was associated with such sounds.

Off to the north there became visible a cloud of dust and at
intervals something swayed in it, something that rose and fell and
then became hidden again. Out of that cloud came sharp, splitting
sounds, which were faintly responded to by another and larger cloud in
its rear. As it came nearer and finally swept past, the Gilas, to
their terror, saw a madly pounding horse, and it carried a man. The
latter turned in his saddle and raised a gun to his shoulder and the
thunder that issued from it caused the creeping audience to throw up
their tails in sudden panic and bury themselves out of sight in the
sand.

The horse was only a broncho, its sides covered with hideous yellow
spots, and on its near flank was a peculiar scar, the brand. Foam
flecked from its crimsoned jaws and found a resting place on its sides
and on the hairy chaps of its rider. Sweat rolled and streamed from
its heaving flanks and was greedily sucked up by the drought-cursed
alkali. Close to the rider's knee a bloody furrow ran forward and one
of the broncho's ears was torn and limp. The broncho was doing its
best-it could run at that pace until it dropped dead. Every ounce of
strength it possessed was put forth to bring those hind hoofs well in
front of the forward ones and to send them pushing the sand behind in
streaming clouds. The horse had done this same thing many times-when
would its master learn sense?