down the river a bit.
Bring it up."

Billie smiled as he moved away into the darkness. This imperious girl
belonged, of course, in the camp of the enemy. She had held him up with
the intention of driving them back to town before her in triumph. But she
was, after all, a very tender-hearted foe to a man stricken with
sickness. It occurred to the Texan that through her might lie a way of
salvation for them both.

Until he saw the turkey the cowpuncher wondered what cooking she could
have in mind, but while he cantered back through the sand he guessed
what she meant to do.

"Draw the turkey. Don't pick it," she gave instructions. Her own hands
were busy trying to make her patient comfortable.

After he had drawn the bird, which was a young, plump one, he made under
direction of the young woman a cement of mud. This he daubed in a
three-inch coating over the turkey, then prepared the fire to make of it
an oven. He covered the bird with ashes, raked live coals over these, and
piled upon the red-hot coals pinon knots and juniper boughs.

"Keep your fire going till about two or three o'clock, then let it die
out. In the morning the turkey will be baked," the young Diana gave
assurance.

The cowpuncher omitted to tell her that he had baked a dozen more or less
and knew all about it.

She rose and drew on her gauntlets in a business-like manner.

"I'm going home now. After the fever passes keep him warm and let him
sleep if he will."

"Yes, ma'am," promised Billie with suspicious meekness.

The girl looked at him sharply, as if she distrusted his humility. Was he
laughing at her? Did he dare to find amusement in her?

"I haven't changed my mind about you. Folks that come to town and start
killing deserve all they get. But I'd look after a yellow dog if it was
sick," she said contemptuously, little devils of defiance in her eyes.

"I'm not questionin' your motives, ma'am, so long as your actions are
friendly,"

"I haven't any use for any of Homer Webb's outfit. He's got no business
here. If he runs into trouble he has only himself to blame."

"I'll mention to him that you said so."

Picking up the rifle, she turned and walked to the horse. There was a
little devil-may-care touch to her walk, just as in her manner, that
suggested a girl spoiled by over-much indulgence. She was imperious,
high-spirited, full of courage and insolence, because her environment had
moulded her to independence. It was impossible for