way. He
overtook the wagon and to his surprise found McAlpin on the box.
McAlpin, overjoyed to see him, explained with a grin he was filling in
for a sick man. In reality, he had substituted for the northern trip
in the hope of seeing some fighting while out and the sight of Laramie
was the nearest he had got to it. Laramie, after a long talk, made an
appointment to meet him in town in the evening and as they reached the
foot of the hill where the road climbed to the Sleepy Cat divide,
Laramie feeling he had no further excuse for loitering, put spurs to
his horse and took a bridle trail, used as a cut-off, to get into safer
country.

He rode this trail unmolested, crossed the divide and coming out of the
hills could see, to the south, Sleepy Cat lying below. He made up his
mind that his judgment was more nearly right than his apprehension, and
rode down the slopes of the Crazy Woman, over the Double-draw bridge
and up the south hill in good spirits. He had, in fact, got half-way
up the long grade when he heard a rifle shot.

Knocked forward the next instant in his saddle, Laramie drooped over
his pommel. As his heels struck the horse's flanks, the beast sprang
ahead. The rebound jerked back the rider's head and shoulders. While
the horse dashed on, Laramie with as little fuss as possible pulled his
rifle from its scabbard, trying all the time to get his balance. A
careful observer could have noted that the rifle was drawn but held low
in the right hand as if the rider could not bring it up. Yet even a
close observer could hardly have detected in his convulsive swaying
that the wounded man was closely scanning the sides of the narrow road
along which his horse was now flying. At all events, he seemed with
failing strength to be losing his seat as he lost control of his horse,
and a hundred yards from where he had been struck he toppled helplessly
from the saddle into the roadway. The speed at which the horse was
going sent the fallen rider rolling along the grade, the sides of which
had been torn in spots by summer torrents. Near one of these holes,
Laramie had left the saddle, and into it he rolled headlong.

[Illustration: Knocked forward the next instant in his saddle, Laramie
drooped over his pommel]

The hole, between four and five feet deep, looked like an irregular
well with an overhang on one side and to the bottom of this, Laramie,
covered with dust, tumbled. He righted himself and turning unde