"What's that?
By gar, eet is a man, amigo; a man in some troubles!" It was a man, a black shape that waved a hat frantically from a swell of rising ground a mile to the south.

Pete swerved his course.
"You've got the best horse, Joe.

Gallop up and see what's wrong.

I'm afraid it's Jackson Carr." It was Jackson Carr.

He limped to meet Benavides; the Mexican turned and swung his hat; the three urged their wearied horses to a gallop.
"Trouble ?" said Pete, leaping down.
"Bobby.