this thing through. The
railroad can wait."

"Well," said the cow-puncher, "you can't miss it. So long, and good
luck."

"So long," we answered. He rode on, and we looked at the major.

"I suppose we ought to get you there as quick as we can," said Fitz,
slowly. "Do you want to ride, or try walking again, or shall we carry
you?"

"I'm better now," declared our plucky corporal. He stood up. "I'll walk,
I guess. It isn't far."

So we set out, cautiously. No, it wasn't far--but it seemed _mighty_
far. The major would walk a couple of hundred yards, and then he must
rest. The pain doubled him right over. We took some of the stuff off
Sally, and lifted him on top, but he couldn't stand that, either, very
long. We tried a chair of our hands, but that didn't suit.

"I'll skip ahead and see if I can bring back a wagon, from the ranch,"
volunteered Red Fox Scout Van Sant; and away he ran. "You wait," he
called back, over his shoulder.

We waited, and kept a cold pack on the major.

In about an hour and a half Van came panting back.

"There isn't any wagon," he gasped. "Nobody at the ranch except two
women. Men folks have gone and taken the wagon with them."

That was hard. We skirmished about, and made a litter out of one of our
blankets and two pieces of driftwood that we fished from the creek; and
carrying the major, with Sally following, we struck the best pace that
we could down the trail. He was heavy, and we must stop often to rest
ourselves and him; and we changed the cold packs.

At evening we toiled at last into the ranch yard. It had not been three
miles: it had been a good long four miles.

CHAPTER XX

A FORTY-MILE RIDE

The ranch was only a small log shack, of two rooms, with corral and
sheds and hay-land around it; it wasn't much of a place, but we were
glad to get there. Smoke was rising from the stove-pipe chimney. As we
drew up, one of the women looked out of the kitchen door, and the other
stood in a shed with a milk-pail in her hand. The woman in the doorway
was the mother; the other was the daughter. They were regular ranch
women, hard workers and quick to be kind in an emergency. This was an
emergency, for Major Henry was about worn out.

"Fetch him right in here," called the mother; and the daughter came
hurrying.

We carried him into a sleeping room, and laid him upon the bed there. He
had been all grit, up till now; but he quit and let down and lay there
with eyes closed, pan