m from behind; but when Bat Wings
halted before the _ramada_ Jeff broke rudely in on the play acting by
taking the little man in his arms and depositing him on a bed.

"Fell into the river," he said, turning with a reassuring smile to
Lucy, "but he ain't hurt none--only kinder weak, you know. I reckon a
little hot tea would help some, bein' as we're out of whiskey, and
while you're brewin' it I'll git these wet clothes off. Yes'm, we're
havin' a little trouble, but that's only them locoed Mexicans shootin'
off their spare ammunition." He dragged up a cot as he spoke and was
hurriedly arranging a bed when Lucy interposed.

"Oh, but don't leave him out here!" she protested, "put him back in
his own room, where I can take care of him."

"All right," said Creede, and picking him up from his bare cot beneath
the _ramada_ he carried Hardy into the little room where he had lived
before Lucy Ware came. "I guess your troubles are over for a while,
pardner," he remarked, as he tucked him into the clean white bed, and
then with a wise look at Lucy he slipped discreetly out the door.

As she entered with the tea Hardy was lying very limp and white
against the pillow, but after the hot drink he opened his big gray
eyes and looked up at her sombrely.

"Sit down," he said, speaking with elaborate exactness, "I want to
tell you something." He reached out and took her hand, and as he
talked he clung to it appealingly. "Lucy," he began, "I didn't forget
about you when I went down there, but--well, when Jasper Swope came
out and challenged us my hair began to bristle like a dog's--and the
next thing I knew I was fighting. He said if I licked him he'd go
round--but you can't trust these sheepmen. When he saw he was whipped
he tried to shoot me, and I had to jump into the river. Oh, I'm all
right now, but--listen, Lucy!" He drew her down to him, insistently.
"Can't you forgive me, this time?" he whispered, and when she nodded
he closed his heavy eyes and fell asleep.

When he awoke in the morning there was nothing to show for his fierce
fight with Swope or his battle with the river--nothing but a great
weariness and a wistful look in his eyes. But all day while the boys
rode back and forth from the river he lay in bed, looking dreamily out
through the barred window or following Lucy with furtive glances as
she flitted in and out. Whenever she came near he smiled, and often
the soft light crept into his eyes, but when by chance he touc