remember, but it was long ago. I spent a
night with a wagon-train, a camp of many men and women, religious
people, working into Utah. Bostil had a boat at the crossing of the
Fathers."

"Yes, they called the Ferry that."

"I remember well now. They said Bostil couldn't count his horses--that
he was a rich man, hard on riders--an' he'd used a gun more than once."

Lucy bowed her head. "Yes, that's my dad."

The rider did not seem to see how he had hurt her.

"Here we are talking--wasting time," she said. "I must start home. You
can't be moved. What shall I do?"

"That's for you to say, Bostil's daughter."

"My name's Lucy," replied the girl, blushing painfully, "I mean I'll be
glad to do anything you think best."

"You're very good."

Then he turned his face away. Lucy looked closely at him. He was indeed
a beggared rider. His clothes and his boots hung in tatters. He had no
hat, no coat, no vest. His gaunt face bore traces of what might have
been a fine, strong comeliness, but now it was only thin, worn, wan,
pitiful, with that look which always went to a woman's heart. He had
the look of a homeless rider. Lucy had seen a few of his wandering
type, and his story was so plain. But he seemed to have a touch of
pride, and this quickened her interest.

"Then I'll do what I think best for you," said Lucy.

First she unsaddled the black Nagger. With the saddle she made a pillow
for the rider's head, and she covered him with the saddle blanket.
Before she had finished this task he turned his eyes upon her. And Lucy
felt she would be haunted. Was he badly hurt, after all? It seemed
probable. How strange he was!

"I'll water the horses--then tie Wildfire here on a double rope.
There's grass."

"But you can't lead him," replied the rider.

"He'll follow me."

"That red devil!" The rider shuddered as he spoke.

Lucy had some faint inkling of what a terrible fight that had been
between man and horse. "Yes; when I found him he was broken. Look at
him now."

But the rider did not appear to want to see the stallion. He gazed up
at Lucy, and she saw something in his eyes that made her think of a
child. She left him, had no trouble in watering the horses, and
haltered Wildfire among the willows on a patch of grass. Then she
returned.

"I'll go now," she said to the rider.

"Where?"

"Home. I'll come back to-morrow, early, and bring some one to help
you--"

"Girl, if YOU want to help me more--bring me some