e half-filled hull. The handle of the ax caught his eye and
searching his pockets, he examined his supply of matches, and cast the
worthless sticks from him with an oath: "Heads plumb soaked off, or I
could build her a fire!"

As he ascended the bank the sun just topped the rim of the bench. Its
rays felt grateful to the chilled man as he stood looking down at the
sleeping girl. "It'll dry her, an' warm her up, while I'm huntin' that
damn cayuse," he muttered. "The quicker she gets to some ranch house,
the better it'll be. I wish I knew where I'm at."

Once more he descended to the water's edge, and searched the ground. It
was but the work of a moment to pick up the trail of the galloping
horse, and he followed it up the coulee, making his way gingerly in his
stockinged feet among the loose stones and patches of prickly pears.
"Wish I'd left my boots in the boat, but I figured old Powder Face
would stop when he got to shore instead of smashin' us again' the rocks
an' lightin' out like the devil was after him--he's old enough to know
better. An' I wonder how in hell she come to be ridin' him? Powder Face
is one of Dad's own special horses."

The coulee wound interminably. The cowboy glanced at his feet where a
toe protruded from a hole in his sock, and seating himself on a boulder
he removed the socks and crammed them into his pocket. "Wouldn't be
nothin' left of 'em but legs in a little bit," he grumbled, and
instinctively felt for his tobacco and papers. He scowled at the soggy
mass and replaced them. "Ain't got a match even if I did dry the
tobacco. I sure feel like I'd died an' went to hell!"

He continued along the coulee limping painfully across stretches of
sharp stones and avoiding the innumerable patches of prickly pears with
which the floor of the valley was dotted. Rounding a sharp spur of rock
that protruded into the ravine, he halted abruptly and stared at his
boots which lay directly in his path. He grinned as he examined the
broken thong. "I've be'n cussin' busted pack-strings all my life," he
muttered, "but this particular string has wiped out the whole score
again' 'em." Removing his leather chaps, he seated himself, drew on his
socks, and inserted a foot into a boot. In vain he pulled and tugged at
the straps. The wet leather gripped the damp sock like a vise. He stood
up and stamped and pulled but the foot stuck fast at the ankle of the
boot. Withdrawing the foot, he fished in his hip pocket and wit