the plucky lad reached the steps some one started to run down them.
Tripping, the unknown plunged headlong to the ground.

The boy was beside the figure in an instant.

"Big-foot!" he shouted.

The cowman came tearing up to him.

"What is it?" he bellowed in his excitement.

"It's a woman, Big-foot! It's a woman! Oh, I hope you did not hit her!"

"It's no woman; it's a spook. I know it's a spook!" fairly shouted the
cowboy.

"I tell you it's a woman!" cried Tad.

He was down on his knees by her side now, raising her head.

"Get help--_quick_!"

Sanders took the shortest way of doing this. He, too, was alarmed now.
Raising his gun above his head, he pulled the trigger three times in
quick succession. As many sharp flashes leaped into the air, and as many
quick reports followed.

"Sure she ain't a spirit?" demanded the cowman, peering down
suspiciously, fearfully. He could make out the form on the ground but
dimly.

"Don't be foolish. Run out there and meet them. I hear the ponies
coming. Don't let any of them use their guns, in the excitement, or some
one may get hurt," warned Tad Butler, with rare judgment.

Big-foot hurried out into the open. In the meantime Tad stroked the face
and head of the woman. She was unconscious, but her flesh seemed warm to
his touch.

"I wonder what it means," the perplexed boy asked himself. Tad could
feel his own pulses beating against his temples. It seemed to him as if
all the blood in his body were hurling itself against them.

Cowboys on their ponies came thundering up from different directions. In
the lead was Bob Stallings, the foreman of the outfit.

"You idiots!" he shouted. "Do you want to stampede the herd again? What
do you mean?"

"I've winged a spook!" yelled Big-foot Sanders. "She's over there by the
steps now. The kid's got her."

"Spook--nonsense!" snapped the foreman, leaping from his pony and
rushing to the spot indicated by Big-foot.

"What----" chorused the cowboys.

"Is it the boy--have they found him?"

"If you all don't insist on talking at once, mebby we can find out what
the row's about," snarled Curley Adams.

The foreman stopped suddenly as he observed Tad sitting at the foot of
the church steps. He saw, too, another form there, but it was so dimly
outlined in the deep shadows that he was unable to make it out.

"What does this mean?" he demanded sternly.

"I don't know. It's a woman. I'm afraid Big-foot's bullet hit her. We
must