uane could not get the meaning of her incoherent reply. He rode on,
and soon he could not see the trail or hear his horse. He did not
know whether they traveled a mile or many times that far. But he was
conscious when the horse stopped, and had a vague sense of falling and
feeling Jennie's arms before all became dark to him.

When consciousness returned he found himself lying in a little hut of
mesquite branches. It was well built and evidently some years old. There
were two doors or openings, one in front and the other at the back.
Duane imagined it had been built by a fugitive--one who meant to keep an
eye both ways and not to be surprised. Duane felt weak and had no desire
to move. Where was he, anyway? A strange, intangible sense of time,
distance, of something far behind weighed upon him. Sight of the two
packs Euchre had made brought his thought to Jennie. What had become of
her? There was evidence of her work in a smoldering fire and a little
blackened coffee-pot. Probably she was outside looking after the horses
or getting water. He thought he heard a step and listened, but he felt
tired, and presently his eyes closed and he fell into a doze.

Awakening from this, he saw Jennie sitting beside him. In some way
she seemed to have changed. When he spoke she gave a start and turned
eagerly to him.

"Duane!" she cried.

"Hello. How're you, Jennie, and how am I?" he said, finding it a little
difficult to talk.

"Oh, I'm all right," she replied. "And you've come to--your wound's
healed; but you've been sick. Fever, I guess. I did all I could."

Duane saw now that the difference in her was a whiteness and tightness
of skin, a hollowness of eye, a look of strain.

"Fever? How long have we been here?" he asked.

She took some pebbles from the crown of his sombrero and counted them.

"Nine. Nine days," she answered.

"Nine days!" he exclaimed, incredulously. But another look at her
assured him that she meant what she said. "I've been sick all the time?
You nursed me?"

"Yes."

"Bland's men didn't come along here?"

"No."

"Where are the horses?"

"I keep them grazing down in a gorge back of here. There's good grass
and water."

"Have you slept any?"

"A little. Lately I couldn't keep awake."

"Good Lord! I should think not. You've had a time of it sitting here day
and night nursing me, watching for the outlaws. Come, tell me all about
it."

"There's nothing much to tell."

"I want to know, anywa