s that the horse might fall before he was out
of the gash, and in falling might crush Mary Hope against the rocks.

As Lance came on, Jamie backed faster, his haunches dropped, his feet
slipping under him. Lance dared not crowd him, dared not reach for the
bridle, still more than an arm's length away. So Jamie came out of the
Slide backwards, saw with a sudden panic-stricken toss of his head
that he had open daylight all around him, whirled short and gave one
headlong leap away from the place that had terrified him so.

Lance jumped, reaching for Mary Hope as the horse went over the bank.
By the length of his hand he missed her, but the rope pulled her free
from Jamie, and she fell prone on the trail and lay still.

"Are you hurt? Good God! are you hurt?" Lance gathered her in his arms
and carried her to where the rock wall made a shady band across the
steep slope.

Mary Hope was very white, very limp, and her eyes were closed. On her
cheeks he saw where tears had lately been. Her mouth had a pitiful
little droop. He sat down, still holding her like a child, and felt
tentatively of her arms, her shoulders, vaguely prepared to feel the
crunch of a broken bone. There was no water nearer than the ranch.
Jamie, having rolled over twice, was lying on his side near a scraggly
buck-brush, looking back up the hill, apparently wondering whether it
would be worth while to get up. The hired horse, having found a niche
wherein to set his hind feet, stood staring down through the Slide,
afraid to come farther, unable to retreat.

One side of Mary Hope's face was dusty, the skin roughened with small
scratches where she had fallen. With his handkerchief Lance very
gently wiped away the dust, took off her hat and fanned her face,
watching absently two locks of hair that blew back and forth across
her forehead with the breeze made by the swaying hat brim.

She was not dead! She could not be dead, with that short fall. Then he
saw that she was breathing faintly, unevenly, and in another minute he
saw her lashes quiver against her tanned cheek. But her eyes did not
open, the color did not flow back into her face.

"Oh, girl--girl, wake up!" With a little shake he pulled her close to
him. "Open your eyes. I want to see your eyes. I want to see if they
are just as blue as ever. Girl--oh, you poor little girl!"

He had been hating her, furious at the insult she had given his
family. Angry as he was with the Lorrigans, resenting fierc