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But shadows were gathering there and no moving line could be seen。
Yaqui mounted and wheeled Diablo away。 The others followed。 Gale saw that the plateau was no more than a vast field of low； ragged circles； levels； mounds； cones； and whirls of lava。 The lava was of a darker red than that down upon the slope； and it was harder than flint。 In places fine sand and cinders covered the uneven floor。 Strange varieties of cactus vied with the omnipresent choya。 Yaqui； however； found ground that his horse covered at a swift walk。
But there was only an hour； perhaps； of this comparatively easy going。 Then the Yaqui led them into a zone of craters。 The top of the earth seemed to have been blown out in holes from a few rods in width to large craters； some shallow； others deep； and all red as fire。 Yaqui circled close to abysses which yawned sheer from a level surface； and he appeared always to be turning upon his course to avoid them。
The plateau had now a considerable dip to the west。 Gale marked the slow heave and ripple of the ocean of lava to the south； where high； rounded peaks marked the center of this volcanic region。 The uneven nature of the slope westward prevented any extended view； until suddenly the fugitives emerged from a rugged break to come upon a sublime and awe…inspiring spectacle。
They were upon a high point of the western slope of the plateau。 It was a slope； but so many leagues long in its descent that only from a height could any slant have been perceptible。 Yaqui and his white horse stood upon the brink of a crater miles in circumference； a thousand feet deep； with its red walls patched in frost…colored spots by the silvery choya。 The giant tracery of lava streams waved down the slope to disappear in undulating sand dunes。 And these bordered a seemingly endless arm of blue sea。 This was the Gulf of California。 Beyond the Gulf rose dim； bold mountains； and above them hung the setting sun； dusky red； flooding all that barren empire with a sinister light。
It was strange to Gale then； and perhaps to the others； to see their guide lead Diablo into a smooth and well…worn trail along the rim of the awful crater。 Gale looked down into that red chasm。 It resembled an inferno。 The dark cliffs upon the opposite side were veiled in blue haze that seemed like smoke。 Here Yaqui was at home。 He moved and looked about him as a man coming at last into his own。 Gale saw him stop and gaze out over that red…ribbed void to the Gulf。
Gale devined that somewhere along this crater of hell the Yaqui would make his final stand； and one look into his strange； inscrutable eyes made imagination picture a fitting doom for the pursuing Rojas。
XII
The Crater of Hell
The trail led along a gigantic fissure in the side of the crater； and then down and down into a red…walled； blue hazed labyrinth。
Presently Gale； upon turning a sharp corner； was utterly amazed to see that the split in the lava sloped out and widened into an arroyo。 It was so green and soft and beautiful in all the angry； contorted red surrounding that Gale could scarcely credit his sight。 Blanco Sol whistled his welcome to the scent of water。 Then Gale saw a great hole； a pit in the shiny lava； a dark； cool； shady well。 There was evidence of the fact that at flood seasons the water had an outlet into the arroyo。 The soil appeared to be a fine sand； in which a reddish tinge predominated； and it was abundantly covered with a long grass； still partly green。 Mesquites and palo verdes dotted the arroyo and gradually closed in thickets that obstructed the view。
〃Shore it all beats me；〃 exclaimed Ladd。 〃What a place to hole…up in！ We could have hid here for a long time。 Boys； I saw mountain sheep； the real old genuine Rocky Mountain bighorn。 What do you think of that？〃
〃I reckon it's a Yaqui hunting…ground；〃 replied Lash。 〃That trail we hit must be hundreds of years old。 It's worn deep and smooth in iron lava。〃
〃Well； all I got to say isBeldin' was shore right about the Indian。 An' I can see Rojas's finish somewhere up along that awful hell…hole。〃
Camp was made on a level spot。 Yaqui took the horses to water； and then turned them loose in the arroyo。 It was a tired and somber group that sat down to eat。 The strain of suspense equaled the wearing effects of the long ride。 Mercedes was calm； but her great dark eyes burned in her white face。 Yaqui watched her。 The others looked at her with unspoken pride。 Presently Thorne wrapped her in his blankets； and she seemed to fall asleep at once。 Twilight deepened。 The campfire blazed brighter。 A cool wind played with Mercedes's black hair； waving strands across her brow。
Little of Yaqui's purpose or plan could be elicited from him。 But the look of him was enough to satisfy even Thorne。 He leaned against a pile of wood； which he had collected； and his gloomy gaze pierced the campfire； and at long intervals strayed over the motionless form of the Spanish girl。
The rangers and Thorne； however； talked in low tones。 It was absolutely impossible for Rojas and his men to reach the waterhole before noon of the next day。 And long before that time the fugitives would have decided on a plan of defense。 What that defense would be； and where it would be made； were matters over which the men considered gravely。 Ladd averred the Yaqui would put them into an impregnable position； that at the same time would prove a death…trap for their pursuers。 They exhausted every possibility； and then； tired as they were； still kept on talking。
〃What stuns me is that Rojas stuck to our trail；〃 said Thorne； his lined and haggard face expressive of dark passion。 〃He has followed us into this fearful desert。 He'll lose men； horses； perhaps his life。 He's only a bandit； and he stands to win no gold。 If he ever gets out of here it 'll be by herculean labor and by terrible hardship。 All for a poor little helpless womanjust a woman！ My God； I can't understand it。〃
〃Shorejust a woman；〃 replied Ladd； solemnly nodding his head。
Then there was a long silence during which the men gazed into the fire。 Each； perhaps； had some vague conception of the enormity of Rojas's love or hatesome faint and amazing glimpse of the gulf of human passion。 Those were cold； hard； grim faces upon which the light flickered。
〃Sleep；〃 said the Yaqui。
Thorne rolled in his blanket close beside Mercedes。 Then one by one the rangers stretched out； feet to the fire。 Gale found that he could not sleep。 His eyes were weary； but they would not stay shut； his body ached for rest； yet he could not lie still。 The night was so somber； so gloomy； and the lava…encompassed arroyo full of shadows。 The dark velvet sky； fretted with white fire； seemed to be close。 There was an absolute silence； as of death。 Nothing movednothing outside of Gale's body appeared to live。 The Yaqui sat like an image carved out of lava。 The others lay prone and quiet。 Would another night see any of them lie that way； quiet forever？ Gale felt a ripple pass over him that was at once a shudder and a contraction of muscles。 Used as he was to the desert and its oppression； why should he feel to…night as if the weight of its lava and the burden of its mystery were bearing him down？
He sat up after a while and again watched the fire。 Nell's sweet face floated like a wraith in the pale smokeglowed and flushed and smiled in the embers。 Other faces shone therehis sister's that of his mother。 Gale shook off the tender memories。 This desolate wilderness with its forbidding silence and its dark promise of hell on the morrowthis was not the place to unnerve oneself with thoughts of love and home。 But the torturing paradox of the thing was that this was just the place and just the night for a man to be haunted。
By and by Gale rose and walked down a shadowy aisle between the mesquites。 On his way back the Yaqui joined him。 Gale was not surprised。 He had become used to the Indian's strange guardianship。 But now； perhaps because of Gale's poignancy of thought； the contending tides of love and regret； the deep； burning premonition of deadly strife； he was moved to keener scrutiny of the Yaqui。 That； of course； was futile。 The Indian was impenetrable； silent； strange。 But suddenly； inexplicably； Gale felt Yaqui's human quality。 It was aloof； as was everything about this Indian； but it was there。 This savage walked silently beside him； without glance or touch or word。 His thought was as inscrutable as if mind had never awakened in his race。 Yet Gale was conscious of greatness； and； somehow； he was reminded of the Indian's story。 His home had been desolated； his people carried off to slavery； his wife and children separated from him to die。 What had life meant to the Yaqui？ What had been in his heart？ What was now in his mind？ Gale could not answer these questions。 But the difference between himself and Yaqui； which he had vaguely felt as that between savage and civilized men； faded out of his mind forever。 Yaqui might have considered he owed Gale a debt； and； with a Yaqui's austere and noble fidelity to honor； he meant to pay it。 Nevertheless； this was not the thing Gale found in the Indian's silent presence。 Accepting t