f
the gully and covered.

This ran through his mind in erratic starts and blanks as he bent over
the wounded man, listening to his respiration with more of a humane than
professional fear that the next breath might tell him of the hemorrhage
which would make a sudden end of Boyle's wavering and uncertain life.

Ten-Gallon had been gone but a little while when Slavens heard him
clattering back in his heel-dragging walk over the rocks. He appeared
before the doctor with a lively relief in his face.

"Some people headin' in here," he announced. "Maybe they'll be of some
help to you. I hated to go and leave you here alone with that
feller"--jerking his head toward Shanklin's body--"for I wouldn't trust
him dead no more than I would alive!"

"All right," said Slavens, scarcely looking up.

Ten-Gallon appeared to be over his anxiety to leave. He waited in front
of the tent as the sound of horses came nearer.

"Stop them off there a little way," ordered the doctor. "We don't want
any more dust around here than we can help."

He looked around for his hat, put it on, and went out, sleeves up, to
see that his order was enforced. Agnes was alighting from a horse as he
stepped out. A tall, slight man with a gray beard was demanding of
Ten-Gallon what had happened there.

Relief warmed the terror out of her eyes as Agnes ran forward and caught
Dr. Slavens' hand.

"You're safe!" she cried. "I feared--oh, I feared!"

A shudder told him what words faltered to name.

"It wasn't my fight," he told her.

"This is Governor Boyle," said Agnes, presenting the stranger, who had
stood looking at them with ill-contained impatience, seeing himself
quite forgotten by both of them in that moment of meeting.

"I am sorry to tell you, sir, that your son is gravely wounded," said
Dr. Slavens, driving at once to the point.

"Where is he?" asked the Governor, his face pale, his throat working as
if he struggled with anguish which fought to relieve itself in a cry.

Dr. Slavens motioned to the tent. The old man went forward, stopping
when he saw his unconscious son and the bloody clothing beside the cot.
He put his hand to his forehead and stood a moment, his eyes closed.
Then he went in and bent over the wounded man.

A sob of pity rose in Agnes' throat as she watched him and saw the pain
and affection upon his face. Presently Governor Boyle turned and walked
to the spot where Hun Shanklin's body lay. Without a word, he lifted the
c