pped, the wounded man seemed to gather new
energy. He no doubt felt that he had at least a fair chance to pull
through. He started to get on his feet, seeing which Thad immediately
offered his hand to help him; and the mountaineer's horny palm was
confidently thrust into his much smaller one; as though, after what
miracle he had already seen the lad perform, the man were willing to
trust him in anything.

Yes. Fortune had again been kind to the scouts; only in this instance it
had not been a case of searching for chances to do good; the opportunity
had come knocking at their very door, so that all that was necessary was
for them to _be prepared_, just as the scout's motto signifies, and
then do the best they knew how.

Again did the two men take hold of their stricken companion. Before they
quit the vicinity of the fire, however, the man named Nate Busby turned
and shook hands all around. Evidently he was grateful for the assistance
rendered. To his mind this first aid to the injured meant a whole lot;
and while he did not say a single word, his action was enough to show
what he thought.

Then the group departed, heading toward the other side of the valley,
where, in one of the humble cabins, some sort of mountain doctor was to
be found, rude in his way, no doubt, but perfectly capable of attending
to a gunshot wound; for these doubtless constituted the bulk of calls
that were made upon his services.

When they had gone the scouts began to discuss the queer happening, and
compare notes as to which one of them had shown the least alarm.

Bob Quail came directly over to where Allan and Thad were standing, just
as the latter had expected he would do. That expression of eager
anticipation still shone upon his dark face, and his eyes fairly glowed
with satisfaction.

"Well, will wonders ever stop happening?" he said, as he reached the
others. "Did you hear what Nate called the wounded man, Thad, Allan?"

"Yes, it was Cliff Dorie. And I guess you've heard it before, judging
from the way you act?" observed the scoutmaster.

"Talk about luck, why, we're just swimming neck deep in it, suh!" the
other continued. "I thought he looked a little like somebody I'd known
befoah; and when I heard that name, I knew it; Why, Cliff Dorie is the
brother of Old Phin's wife!"

"Fine!" exclaimed Allan, with a broad smile.

"I should say, yes," Bob went on, eagerly; "seems as though we were just
bound to put the whole Dady family in