the top of the sucker. So she rolled about until she found a pine
twig, which she took in her mouth, rolling with it back to the razor.
With one end of the twig in her mouth, she was able to push the blade
open with the other end, and it fell back against the root of the oak,
edge uppermost.

She rested again, and then crawled over the root until a coil of the
rope that bound her shoulders was pressing against the keen edge of the
razor blade. Working her shoulders up and down, she saw the leather
strands parting clean, and soon only one strand remained uncut. She
rolled from the razor and scraped this last strand against another
exposed root of the oak until it parted.

Two minutes more, and she was sitting up, unwinding the rawhide lariat
from her legs with hands that were free.

She struggled to her feet, and though she ached in every bone and
muscle, ran to Hiram and bent over him with a little cry of anguish on
her lips.

His shirt front was stained crimson, and terror seized her. She fought
it off and, bending down, listened with an ear to his heart. She
breathed a little tremulous prayer of thankfulness as she heard his
regular heartbeats, and then tore open his shirt to find that a bullet
had entered his breast, high up on the right-hand side.

As best she could she stopped the bleeding and tried to revive Hiram.
Into cold rain water, collected in a hollow of the ground, she plunged
her handkerchief again and again, bathing the man's temples and chafing
his wrists.

At last he opened his eyes, stared oddly at her a little, then, seeming
to remember everything, strove to rise.

Probably one woman in all that country could have completed the
gigantic task of getting this big, wounded man back to the wagons, but
Jerkline Jo was fortunately that woman. With an arm of Hiram about her
neck, and her arm about his waist, they staggered away through the
rain, Hiram conscious enough to direct the way, for the girl was
completely lost. It was early in the morning that their journey had
been interrupted so ruthlessly, but it was afternoon before they came
again to the road, and Hiram dropped exhausted in Jo's lead wagon.

Here she was able better to attend to his wound, and brandy, which she
always carried, revived him greatly.

There was no course open now but to loose all the horses but four,
leave three of the wagons where they stood, and drive as fast as she
could with the four hitched to the head wag