swept the landscape with his glance. A little cloud of dust far out on
the mesa towards Split Peak caught his eye. He looked at it
steadfastly under his hand, and drew a deep breath of relief as he
made out a fleeing horse and rider.

He descended to Ashton, and taking him up pick-a-back, swung away for
the camp with long, swift strides. Before he had gone half the
distance, he felt Ashton's arms loosening their clasp of his neck. He
caught him as he sank in a swoon. Without a moment's hesitation, he
slung his senseless burden up on his shoulder like a sack of meal, and
hastened on faster than before.

Swiftly as he walked, the ladies reached the camp before him. When he
came to the top of the dike slope, his wife had dismounted and Isobel
was handing down the baby to her. As the girl slipped out of the
saddle she looked up the slope. With a startled cry, she darted to
meet Blake.

Quick to forestall her alarm, he called in a gasping shout: "Not
serious--not serious!"

"Oh, Tom--Mr. Blake!" she cried. "What has happened?"

"Scalp wound--faint--blood loss," Blake panted in terse answer.

"He is wounded? O-o-oh!" She ran up and looked fearfully at the
bloodsoaked bandages across Ashton's hanging head.

Blake staggered on down the slope without pausing. Genevieve had
started to meet him. But at her husband's panting explanation, she
laid the baby on the nearest soft spot of earth and darted to the
kit-chest. She was opening a "first aid" box when Blake crashed
through the bushes and sank down with his burden under the first
tree.

Genevieve hastened towards the men, calling to her companion: "Water,
Chuckie--that pail by the fireplace."

The girl flew to fetch a bucket of water from the pool.

Blake was peering anxiously down into Ashton's white face.
"Didn't--know--but--that--" he panted.

"No," reassured his wife. "He will soon be all right."

She drew the unconscious man flat on his back and held a bottle of
ammonia to his nostrils. The powerful stimulant revived him just as
the girl came running back with the water. He opened his eyes, and the
first object they rested upon was her anxious pitiful face. He smiled
and whispered gallantly: "Don't be afraid. I'm all right--now!"

"Then I'll drink first," said Blake.

He took a deep draught from the pail, doused a hatful of water over
his hot head and face, and stretched out to cool off. Genevieve,
assisted by the deeply concerned girl, took the handkerch