be to trust myself in his
power again," he concluded.

For a moment or two Mary Thorne sat silent, regarding him with a curious
expression.

"So that was the reason," she murmured at length.

His eyes questioned her mutely, and a slow flush crept into her face.

"The reason you--you couldn't say you had no--special object in being on
the Shoe-Bar," she explained haltingly. "I'm--sorry I didn't understand."

"I couldn't very well tell you without running the risk of Lynch's finding
out. As it happened, I was trying my best to think up a reasonable excuse
for leaving the outfit to do some investigating from this end, so you
really did me a good turn."

"Investigating what? Haven't you any idea what he's up to?"

Buck hesitated. "A very little, but it's too indefinite to put into words
just yet. I've a feeling I'll get at the bottom of it soon, though, and
then I'll tell you. In the meantime, when you go back, don't breathe a
word of having seen me, and on no account let any one persuade you
to--sell the outfit."

She stared at him with crinkled brows. "But what are you going to do now?"
she asked suddenly, her mind flashing back to the present difficulty.

He dragged himself into a sitting posture. He was evidently feeling
stronger and looked much more like himself.

"Try and get back to that camp of mine I told you of," he explained. "I
reckon I'll have to lay up there a while, but there's food a-plenty, and a
good spring, so--"

"But I don't believe you can even stand," she protested. "And if your ribs
are broken--"

"Likely it's only one and I can strap that good and tight with a piece of
my shirt or something. Then if you could catch Pete and bring him over
here, I'll manage to climb into the saddle some way. It's only three or
four miles, and the going's not so very bad."

She made no further protest, but her lips straightened firmly and there
was a look of decision in her girlish face as she set about helping him
with his preparations.

It was she who tore a broad band from his flannel shirt, roughly fringed
the ends with Buck's knife and tied it so tightly about his body that he
had hard work to keep from wincing. She insisted on bandaging his head,
and while he rested in the shade went back into the gulch to look for his
hat and the Colt that had fallen from his holster.

She finally found them both under a narrow ledge that thrust out a dozen
feet below the edge of the trail. A stunted bush, roo