Then without a word, Red Sun began
rapidly to unlace his boots. It would be difficult to say which made
the exchange with the greater satisfaction, Enoch or the Indian. When
it was done Enoch, as far as his costume was concerned, might have been
a desert miner indeed, looking for a job.
The sun was not over an hour high when Pablo and Enoch started north
once more, the little horse loaded with supplies and Enoch loaded with
such trail lore as the two Indians could impress upon him in the short
time at their command. Enoch was not deeply impressed by their advice
except as to one point, which they repeated so often that it really
penetrated his distraught and weary mind. He was to keep to the trail.
No matter what or whom he thought he saw in the distance, he was to
keep to the trail. If a sand storm struck him, he was to camp
immediately and on the trail. If he needed water, he was to keep to
the trail in order to find it. At night, he must camp on the trail.
The trail! It was, they made him understand, a tenderfoot's only
chance of life in this section. And, thus equipped, Enoch rode away
into the lonely, shimmering, intriguing morning light of the desert.
He rode all the morning without dismounting.
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