The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine

on a person whose very outlines are invisible. Jessup's hands went up, too, and then dropped quickly to his sides again.

      "Why, it's Slim!" he cried, and spurred swiftly toward the mouth of the gully. "What the deuce is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "What's happened to Rick?"

      There was a momentary pause, and then McCabe stepped out of the shadows, six-gun in one hand.

      "What the devil are yuh doin' here?" he demanded with a harshness which struck Buck in curious contrast to his usual air of good humor. "Who's that with yuh?"

      "Only Green. We--we got worried, an' saddled up an'--followed yuh. When we heard the shots--What _did_ happen to Rick, Slim? We caught his horse out there, the saddle all--"

      "Since yuh gotta know," snapped the puncher, "he got a hole drilled through one leg. He's right here behind me."

      As Bud flung himself out of the saddle and hurried over to the man lying just inside the gully, McCabe stepped swiftly to the side of Stratton's horse. There was a mingling of doubt and sharp suspicion in the upturned face.

      "Yuh sure are up an' doin' for a new hand," he commented swiftly. "Was it yuh put it into his head to come out here?"

      "I reckon maybe it was," returned Buck easily. "When we woke up an' found you all gone, the kid got fretting considerable about his friend here, and I didn't see why we shouldn't ride out and join you. According to my mind, when you're out after rustlers, the more the merrier."

      "Huh! He told yuh we was after rustlers?"

      "Sure. Why not? It ain't any secret, is it? Leastwise, I didn't gather that from Bud."

      McCabe's face relaxed. "Wal, I dunno as 't is," he shrugged. "Tex likes to run things his own way, though. Still, I dunno as there's any harm done. Truth is, we didn't get started soon enough. We was half a mile off when we heard the shot, an' rid up to find Rick drilled through the leg an' the thieves beatin' it for the mountains. The rest of the bunch lit out after 'em while I stayed with Rick. I dunno as they caught any of 'em, but I reckon they didn't have time to run off no cattle."

      Stratton slid out of the saddle and threw the reins over the roan's head. He had not failed to notice the slight discrepancy in McCabe's statement as to the length of time it took the punchers to ride from the bunk-house to this spot, but he made no comment.

      "Bemis hurt bad?" he asked.

      "Not serious. It's a clean wound in his thigh. I got it tied up with his neckerchief."

      Buck nodded and walked over to where Bud was squatting beside the wounded cow-puncher. By this time his eyes were accustomed to the half-darkness, and he could easily distinguish the long length of the fellow, and even noted that the dark eyes were regarding him questioningly out of a white, rather strained face.

      "Want me to look you over?" he asked, bending down. "I've had considerable experience with this sort of thing, and maybe I can make you easier."

      "Go to it," nodded the young chap briefly. "It ain't bleedin' like it was, but it could be a whole lot more comfortable."

      With the aid of Jessup and McCabe, Bemis was moved out into the moonlight, where Stratton made a careful examination of his wound. He found that the bullet had plowed through the fleshy part of the thigh, just missing the bone, and, barring chances of infection, it was not likely to be dangerous. He was readjusting Slim's crude bandaging when he heard the beat of hoofs and out of the corner of one eye saw McCabe walk swiftly out to meet the returning punchers.

      These halted about fifty feet away, and there was a brief exchange of words of which Buck could distinguish nothing. Presently two of the men dashed off in the direction of the ranch-house, while Lynch rode slowly forward and dismounted.

      "How yuh feelin'?" he asked Bemis, adding with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, "I hear yuh got a reg'lar professional sawbones to look after yuh."

      "He acts like he knew what he was about," returned Bemis briefly. "How yuh goin' to get me home?"

      "I've sent Butch an' Flint after the wagon," explained Lynch. "They'll hustle all they can."

      "Did you catch sight of the rustlers?" asked Stratton suddenly.

      The foreman flashed him a sudden not overfriendly glance.

      "No," he returned curtly, and turning on his heel led his horse over to where the others had gathered in the shadow of a rocky butte.

      It was nearly an hour before the lumbering farm-wagon appeared. During the interval Buck sat beside the wounded man, smoking and exchanging occasional brief comments with Bud, who stayed close by. One or two of the others strolled up to ask about Bemis, but for the most part they remained in their little group, the intermittent glow of their cigarettes flickering in the darkness and the constant low murmur of their conversation wafted indistinguishably across the intervening space.

      Their behavior piqued Buck's curiosity tremendously. What were they talking about so continually? Where had the outlaws gone, and why hadn't they been pursued further? Had the whole pursuit been merely in the nature of a bluff? And if so, whom had it been intended to deceive? These and a score of other questions passed through his mind as he sat there waiting, but when the dull rumble of the wagon started them all into activity, he had not succeeded in finding any really plausible answers.

      The return trip was necessarily slow, and dawn was just breaking as they forded the creek and drove up to the bunk-house. They had barely come to a standstill when, to Buck's surprise, the slim figure of Mary Thorne, bare-headed and clad in riding-clothes, appeared suddenly around the corner of the ranch-house and came swiftly toward them.

      "Pedro told me," she said briefly, pausing beside the wagon. "How is he?"

      "Doin' fine," responded Lynch promptly. "It's a clean wound an' ought to heal in no time. Our new hand Green tied him up like a regular professional."

      His manner was almost fulsomely pleasant; Miss Thorne's expression of anxiety relaxed.

      "I'm so glad. You'd better bring him right up to the house; he'll be more comfortable there."

      "That ain't hardly necessary," objected Lynch. "He'll do all right here. We don't want him to be a bother to yuh."

      "He won't be," retorted Miss Thorne with unexpected decision. "We've plenty of room, and Maria has a bed all ready. The bunk-house is no place for a sick man."

      During the brief colloquy Bemis, though perfectly conscious, made no comment whatever. But Buck, glancing toward him as he lay on the husk mattress behind the driver, surprised a fleeting but unmistakable expression of relief in his tanned face.

      "He don't want to stay in the bunk-house," thought Stratton. "I don't know as I blame him, neither. I wonder, though, if it's because he figures on being more comfortable up there, or--"

      The unvoiced question ended with a shrug as Lynch, somewhat curt of manner, gave the order to move.

      "Yuh don't all of yuh have to come, neither," he added quickly. "Butch an' Slim an' me can carry him in."

      Miss Thorne, who had already started toward the house, glanced over one shoulder. "If Green knows something about first aid, as you say, he'd better come too, I think."

      Buck glanced questioningly at the foreman, received a surly nod and dismounted, smiling inwardly. It amused him exceedingly to see the dictatorial Tex forced to take orders from this slip of a girl. Evidently she was not quite so pathetically helpless as he had supposed the afternoon before. He began to wonder how she did it, for Lynch struck him as a far from easy person to manage. He was still turning the question over in his mind when he received a shock which for the moment banished every other thought.

      The wagon was backed up to the porch, and the four punchers, each taking a corner of the mattress, lifted Bemis out and carried him across the living-room and through a door on the further side which Miss Thorne held open. The room was light and airy, and Buck was conscious of a vague sense of familiarity, which he set down to his rather brief acquaintance with the place two years ago. But when Bemis had been undressed and put