er for just that emergency,
slipped and spilled the whole of it just when they needed it most. At
the last, it was as if they carried a dead man between them--Jack
Bates and Cal Emmett it was who bore him up the last steep climb--and
Pink and Weary, coming behind with all the horses, glanced fearfully
into each other's eyes and dared not question.

At the top they laid him down in the grass and swore at Happy Jack,
because they must do something, and because they dared not face what
might be before them. They avoided looking at one another while they
stood helplessly beside the still figure of the man they had maligned.
If he died, they would always have that bitter spot in their
memory--and even with the fear of his dying they stood remorseful.

Of a sudden Andy opened his eyes and looked at them with the light of
recognition, and they bent eagerly toward him. "If--yuh could--on--my
horse--I--I--could ride--maybe." Much pain it cost him, they knew by
the look on his face. But he was game to the last--just as they knew
he would be.

"Yuh couldn't ride Twister, yuh know yuh couldn't," Pink objected
gently. "But--if yuh could ride Jack's horse--he's dead gentle, and
we'd help hold yuh on. Do you think yuh could?"

Andy moved his head uneasily. "I--I've got to," he retorted weakly,
and even essayed a smile to reassure them. "I--ain't all--in yet," he
added with an evident effort, and the Happy Family gulped
sympathetically, and wondered secretly if they would have such nerve
under like conditions.

"It's going to be one hell of a trip for yuh," Weary murmured
commiseratingly, when they were lifting him into the saddle. Of a
truth, it did seem absolutely foolhardy to attempt it, but there was
nothing else to do, unless they left him there. For no wagon could
possibly be driven within miles of the place.

Andy leaned limply over the saddle-horn, his face working with the
agony he suffered. Somehow they had got him upon the horse of Jack
Bates, but they had felt like torturers while they did it, and the
perspiration on their faces was not all caused by heat.

"My God, I'd rather be hung than go through this again," muttered Cal,
white under the tan. "I--"

"I'll tackle--it now," gasped Andy, with a pitiful attempt to sit
straight in the saddle. "Get on--boys--"

Reluctantly they started to obey, when the horse of Jack Bates gave a
sudden leap ahead. Many hands reached out to grasp him by the bridle,
but they were