anxious to help him
all I can. I cannot realize that it is June, and that I have been two
months on the range. What a jolly time we have had! It seems a pity to
go and leave you here by yourself."

"It would not be the first time I have been alone in the hills," smiled
Sandy.

"He'll not be by himself either," put in Pete, the Mexican, "for Tobin
came up over the trail with me and is to bear Sandy company."

Donald's face brightened.

"I know you'll not be lonely, Sandy," he said, "but suppose anything
happened to you--what if you happened to be hurt as Johnson was?"

"Aye, poor Johnson! What do they hear from him, Pete?"

"Mr. Clark has been to Glen City a number of times to see him. He is
getting on finely! The ribs are mending and the hip, too. His heart is
the trouble now; he is breaking his heart for Crescent and the range.
The doctor says that he will never be able to come back to the ranch.
Mr. Clark is going to settle him and his wife on a farm of their own in
California, where their son is."

"Oh, I am very glad!" cried Donald. "Father said he should always look
out for Johnson because he had been so faithful."

"It is like your father to do it--and like your grandfather, too, Don.
May you be as good a man! Now get your traps together and be off with
Pete. It's many a time I'll be thinking of you after you are gone,
laddie."

"But you know I am coming back in a few weeks, Sandy."

"There's long weeks and short weeks; it all depends on what you're
doing," was Sandy's whimsical answer. "Now be off. Why, you'd think I
was seeing you to India instead of just down to the lowlands!"

As he dropped over the rimrock, Donald tried to laugh. It was not until
he was mounted upon the little Mexican pony that he gained courage to
look up. Outlined against the sky Sandy was standing on a point of rock,
waving his sombrero. That was the last Donald saw of him.

Chatting as they rode down the mountainside the boy and Pete pressed
forward over the trail. At noon they dismounted and lunched on salt-pork
and pilot bread. Then off they cantered again. The tiny ponies,
sure-footed as mules, made their way over the steep inclines of the
hilly country with astonishing daintiness, but although they maintained
a fair and even speed it was sunset when the white top of the prairie
schooner came into sight, drawn up beside a stream and sheltered by a
group of great trees. Several Mexican ponies were pastured near it. The
c