till
sundown."

As from some great distance a voice seemed to come to him. "Mercy!" it
said. "What is wrong? Who is shot?"

"Why, the snake, ma'am," he returned thickly. He slid down from his
pony and staggered to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the
slender posts and hanging dizzily on. "You see, ma'am, that damned
rattler got Ferguson. But Ferguson ain't reckonin' on dyin' till
sundown. He couldn't let no snake get the best of him."

He saw the woman start toward him, felt her hands on his arms, helping
him upon the porch. Then he felt her hands on his shoulders, felt them
pressing him down. He felt dimly that there was a chair under him, and
he sank into it, leaning back and stretching himself out full length.
A figure flitted before him and presently there was a sharp pain in his
foot. He started out of the chair, and was abruptly shoved back into
it, Then the figure leaned over him, prying his jaws apart with some
metal like object and pouring something down his throat. He clicked as
he swallowed, vainly trying to brush away the object.

"You're a hell of a snake," he said savagely. Then the world blurred
dizzily, and he drifted into oblivion.

CHAPTER IV

A "DIFFERENT GIRL"

Ferguson had no means of knowing how long he was unconscious, but when
he awoke the sun had gone down and the darkening shadows had stolen
into the clearing near the cabin. He still sat in the chair on the
porch. He tried to lift his injured foot and found to his surprise
that some weight seemed to be on it. He struggled to an erect
position, looking down. His foot had been bandaged, and the weight
that he had thought was upon it was not a weight at all, but the hands
of a young woman.

She sat on the porch floor, the injured foot in her lap, and she had
just finished bandaging it. Beside her on the porch floor was a small
black medicine case, a sponge, some yards of white cloth, and a tin
wash basin partly filled with water.

He had a hazy recollection of the young woman; he knew it must have
been she that he had seen when he had ridden up to the porch. He also
had a slight remembrance of having spoken to her, but what the words
were he could not recall. He stretched himself painfully. The foot
pained frightfully, and his face felt hot and feverish; he was woefully
weak and his nerves were tingling--but he was alive.

The girl looked up at his movement. Her lips opened and she held up a
w