tion. "One of your men hurt?"

"Not seriously," answered Straw, looking back into the wagon. "Just a
little touch of the dengue. He's been drinking stagnant water, out of
cow tracks, for the last few months, and that gets into the bones of the
best of us. I'm not feeling very well myself."

Dell lifted the wagon-sheet and peered inside. "Let's get the poor
fellow into the tent," urged the boy. "Can he walk, or can you and I
carry him?"

"He's the long size Texan, and we'd better try and trail him in,"
answered Straw, alighting from the wagon. "Where's Dr. Joel Wells?"

"Riding the dead-line. He'll be in shortly. I'll fix a cot, and we'll
bring the sick man in at once."

It was simple malaria, known in the Southwest as dengue fever. The
unfortunate lad was made comfortable, and on Joel riding in, Straw had
skirmished some corn, and was feeding his mules.

"As one of the founders of this hospital," said Straw, after greeting
Joel, "this corn has my approval. It is my orders, as one of the
trustees, that it be kept in stock hereafter. This team has to go back
to the Prairie Dog to-night, and this corn will fortify them for
the trip."

The situation was explained. "I only lost half a day," continued Straw,
"by bringing the poor fellow over to you. He's one of the best men that
ever worked for me, and a month's rest will put him on his feet again.
Now, if one of you boys will take the team back to--"

"Certainly," answered Joel. "Anything a director of this hospital wants
done--We're running a relief station now--watering the entire drive this
year. Where's your outfit camped?"

"A mile above the trail crossing on the Prairie Dog. The wagon's empty.
Leave here at two o'clock to-night, and you'll get there in time for
breakfast."

"I'm your man. Going to the Prairie Dog at night, in the summer, is a
horse that's easy curried."

The next evening Joel brought in Straw's herd. In the mean time the sick
man had been cared for, and the passing wayfarer and his cattle made
welcome and sped on their way. During the lay-over, Straw had lost his
place in the overland march, two herds having passed him and crossed
the Beaver.

"I'm corporal here to-day," said Straw to the two foremen, who arrived
together in advance. "On this water, I'm the squatter that'll rob you
right. You'll count your cattle to me and pay the bill in advance. This
cool, shaded water in the Beaver is worth three cents a head, and I'll
count you down