nt for many days to come; that with all his newborn affection
for Banty, Con would make him most unwelcome should chance bring them
face to face again.

II

It happened so strangely, so quickly, that Con gave himself no time
to think. They had been trailing a caribou, just for sport, for the
hunting season was closed, and Con struck into the wrong trail on the
return journey. Thinking to overtake the others, he worked his cayuse
hard, galloping on and on until the hills and canyons began to look
unfamiliar. Feeling that he was lost, he fired his gun, once, twice.
Far down in the valley came a response, so he loped down the winding
trail until he suddenly came upon a little shack surrounded by fields
of alfalfa, and a few cattle grazing along a creek.

As he neared the ranch a shot was fired from the shack window, he jerked
his animal up shortly, and was about to wheel and gallop back, when a
pitiful groan reached his ears, and a man's voice begged: "Water, water,
for the love of heaven bring me water!" Then, unfamiliar as Con was to
Western life, instinct told him that the revolver shot was meant to call
him to some one's aid.

"Coming," he shouted, slipping from his saddle, "buck up, I'll fetch
water," but before he could enter the door, a terrible, repulsive face
was lifted to the window, and the man almost shrieked:

"Don't come in, don't, I say; just hand me some water from the creek.
I'm too weak to walk."

"Of course I'm coming in," blurted Con, indignantly. "Why, man, you're
dead sick!"

"Don't!" choked the man; "oh, boy, don't come near me, _I've got
smallpox_."

For one brief second Con stood, stiff with horror. "Who's with you,
helping you, nursing you?" he demanded.

"No one, I'm alone, alone; oh! water, water," moaned the man.

Con flung open the door. There was no hesitation, no fear, no thought of
self; just a great human pity in his fair young face, and a wonderful
tenderness in his strong young arms as he lifted the loathsome sufferer
from the floor where he had fallen in his weakness, after crawling to
the window in that last, almost hopeless effort to call assistance.

On the soiled and tumbled bed he laid the man, who still shrieked: "Go
away, go away, you're crazy to come in here!" Then without a word of
even kindly encouragement the boy seized a bucket and dashed down to
the creek. "It's water, not words, he wants now," he said to himself,
running back, and in another moment his good r