s very blood,
and his power. She was conscious of a glimpse of his turning profile,
still transfixed with the cool purpose of action. Then they were gazing
full at each other, eyes into eyes, directly, questioningly. He was
smiling as he had on the pass; as he had when he stood with his arms
full of mail waiting for the signal to deposit his load. His devil had
slipped back into his inner being.

He spoke first, and in the voice that went with his vaguest mood; the
voice in which he had described his escape from the dinosaur whose scales
had become wedged in the defile at the critical moment.

"You have a strong thumb and it must be tired, as well as all
bluggy," he said, falling into a childhood symbol for taking the
whole affair in play.

Could he be the same man who had said, "I am going to kill you!" so
relentlessly? He had eased the situation with the ready gift he had for
easing situations; but, at the same time, he had made those unanalyzable
emotions more complex, though they were swept into the background for the
moment. He glanced down at his leg with comprehending surprise.

"Now, certainly, you are free of all responsibility," he added. "You kept
the strength in me to escape the fate you feared. Jim Galway will make a
tourniquet and relieve you."

The first available thing for tightening the tourniquet was the barrel
of Pete Leddy's gun and the first suggestion for material came from her.
It was the sash of her gown, which Galway knotted with his strong,
sunburned fingers.

When she could lift her numbed thumb from its task and rose to her feet
she had a feeling of relief, as if she were free of magnetic bonds and
uncanny personal proximity. The incident was closed--surely closed. She
was breathing a prayer of thanks when a remark from Galway to Jack
brought back her apprehension.

"I guess you will have to postpone catching to-day's train," he said.

Certainly, Jack must remain until his wound had healed and his strength
had returned. And where would he go? He could not camp out on the desert.
As Jasper Ewold had the most commodious bungalow it seemed natural that
any wounded stranger should be taken there. The idea chilled her as an
insupportable intrusion. Jack hesitated a moment. He was evidently
considering whether he could not still keep to his programme.

"Yes, Jim, I'm afraid I shall have to ask you for a cot for a few days,"
he said, finally.

Again he had the right thought at the right