of the hills beyond. Down in the desert basin, drifting above and
woven through the ever-shifting masses of color, shimmering phantom
lakes, and dull, dusky patches of green and brown, long streamers,
bars and threads of dust shone like gleaming gold.

Texas Joe, when he had poured for each his portion of water, shook
the canteen carefully, and a smile spread slowly over his sun-
blackened features. "What's left belongs to the kid," he said. "But
we'll make it. We'll jest about make it."

The Irishman lifted his cup toward the Desert, saying solemnly:
"Here's to ye, domn ye! Ye ain't got us yet. May ye burn an'
blishther an' scorch an' bake 'til yer danged heart shrivels up an'
blows away."

Then he fell to amusing the child with loving fun-talk and queer
antics, until she laughed aloud and permitted him to catch her up in
his big hairy hands and to toss her high in the air. Texas and Abe,
joining in the frolic, shared with Pat the little lady's favor,
while the Seer looked smilingly on. But when Jefferson Worth
approached, with an offering of pretty stones and shells which he
had gathered on the old beach, she ran up to the engineer's arms.
Still coaxing, the banker held out his offering. The others were
silent, watching. Timidly at last, the child put forth her little
hands and accepted the gift, shrinking back quickly with her
treasures to the shelter of the big man's arms.

It was just after noon the next day when the men at the wagon yard
on the edge of Rubio City looked up to see Jefferson Worth's outfit
approaching. The dust-covered, nearly-exhausted team staggered