the renegade dragged his helpless captive up to the thorny
sahuaro, and bound his back against it with the dead horse's
bridle. McKee searched through Lane's pockets until he found a
match.

"Last one, hey? Kinder 'propriate. Las' drink from the old
canteen, las' ca'tridge, last look at the scenery, and las' will
an' testyment. Oh, time's precious, but I'll spare you enough to
map out in yer mind jes' where them claims is located. The
Rurales won't be along fer an hour yet, if they hain't turned
back after our other party."

McKee pulled off Lane's boots. "It 'ain't decent fer a man to
die with 'em on," he said. He then kindled a fire on the stone,
beneath which, if he but knew it, lay the treasure he sought. He
returned with a burning brand to the captive. For the first time
he observed the snake impaled on the sahuaro, writhing but
feebly. "Hullo, ole rattler," he exclaimed; "here's somethin' to
stir you up;" and he tossed the brand upon the top of the cactus.

Taking another burning stick from the fire, he applied it to the
soles of his victim's feet. Lane writhed and groaned under the
excruciating torture, but uttered no word or cry. McKee brought
other brands, and began piling them about his captive's feet.

In the meantime the sahuaro had caught fire at the top, and was
burning down through the interior. A thin column of smoke rose
straight above it in the still air. The Rurales in the valley
below, who had reached the beginning of the ascending trail, and
were on the point of giving up the pursuit, saw the smoke, and,