down close
to the horizon's edge. Still the girl held her vigil. At last the brush
moved once more and the man reappeared. His glance swept the landscape,
the river-bank, the opposite shore. Apparently satisfied, he came out
from his hiding-place, and began to gather brush for a fire.

He was stooped, his back toward her, when the voice of the girl startled
him to rigidity.

"Hands in the air!"

He did not at once obey. His head turned to see who this Amazon might be.

"Can't you hear? Reach for the sky!" she ordered sharply.

She had risen and stepped from behind the tree. He could see that she was
dark, of a full, fine figure, and that her steady black eyes watched him
without the least fear. The rifle in her hands covered him very steadily.

His hands went up, but he could not keep a little, sardonic smile from
his face. The young woman lowered the rifle from her shoulder and moved
warily forward.

"Lie down on the sand, face to the ground, hands outstretched!" came her
next command.

Billie did as he was told. A little tug at his side gave notice to him
that she had deftly removed his revolver.

"Sit up!"

The cowpuncher sat up and took notice. Stars of excitement snapped in the
eyes of this very competent young woman. The color beat warmly through
her dark skin. She was very well worth looking at.

"What's your name?" she demanded.

"My road brand is Billie Prince," he answered.

"Thought so. Where's the other man?"

He nodded toward the cave.

"Call him out," she said curtly.

"I hate to wake him. He's been wounded. All day he's been in a high fever
and he's asleep at last."

For the first time her confidence seemed a little shaken. She hesitated.
"Is he badly hurt?"

"He'd get well if he could have proper attention, but a wounded man can't
stand to be jolted around the way he's been since he was shot."

"Do you mean that you think he's going to die?"

"I don't know." After a moment he added: "He's mighty sick."

"He ought never to have left town."

"Oughtn't he?" said Prince dryly. "If you'll inquire you'll find we had a
good reason for leavin'."

"Well, you're going to have another good reason for going back," she told
him crisply. "I'll send a buckboard for him."

"Aren't you takin' a heap of trouble on our account?" he inquired
ironically.

"That's my business."

"And mine. Are you the sheriff of Washington County, ma'am?"

A pulse of anger beat in her throat. Her long-lashe