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"He's on the run, whoever he is. Guess I'll get back to Steve,"

decided France wisely.

He found his friend stretched on the ground, with his head in

Arlie's lap.

"Is it very bad?" he asked the girl.

"I don't know. There's no light. Whatever shall we do?" she

moaned.

"I'm a right smart of a nuisance, ain't I?" drawled the wounded

man unexpectedly.

She leaned forward quickly. "Where are you hit?"

"In the shoulder, ma'am."

"Can you ride, Steve? Do you reckon you could make out the five

miles?" Dick asked.

Arlie answered for him. She had felt the inert weight of his

heavy body and knew that he was beyond helping himself. "No. Is

there no house near? There's Alec Howard's cabin."

"He's at the round-up, but I guess we had better take Steve

there--if we could make out to get him that far."

The girl took command quietly. "Unsaddle Teddy."

She had unloosened his shirt and was tying her silk kerchief over

the wound, from which blood was coming in little jets.