played his better
understanding. "Say, Jeff! You ken hear me, boy. You're jest
foolin'. Say, hark to this. You beat 'em. You beat 'em
single-handed, an' shot 'em plumb down."

Curiously enough there was almost instant result, and Bud's
satisfaction became evident. The staring eyes relaxed their regard of
the starry heavens. The lids flickered, then the eyes themselves
turned in the direction whence came those sonorous tones.

"You ken hear?"

Bud's words came on the instant, and were full of triumph. Then he
turned to the girl who had promptly relinquished Jeff's hand.

"We ain't got a thing to hand him, 'cep' it's water," he said
half-angrily. "We can't jest move him, not nothin', till the boys git
along with the wagon, an' that blamed dope merchant gits around. What
in hell ken we do?"

"Wait."

Nan's finality robbed her father of his complaint.

"Guess we'll hev to. Say----"

"Yes?"

"Do you guess he ken talk if he feels that way?"

But Nan was no longer giving him any attention. All her thoughts, all
her being was for the man before them.

A faint tinge of color was creeping under his skin, up to the soft
white wrapping fastened about his fire-scorched forehead. Even in the
starlight it was plainly visible to the girl's eager eyes. There was
something else, too. The look in his eyes had completely changed. To
Nan there was something approaching the shadow of a smile.

She moved close to his side so that she could reach out and give him
support. Then she gave the father at her side his orders.

"Get water, Dad--quick!" she demanded.

Bud demurred.

"I only got my hat," he said helplessly.

"It'll do. But get it."

Bud moved away, with the heavy haste of two hundred and ten pounds of
mental disturbance.

The moment he had gone a faint sigh escaped the injured man. Nan held
her breath. Would he--speak? She would give worlds to hear the sound
of his voice, She had believed him dying. Now a wild hope surged. If
he would--could speak, it seemed to her simple logic that he must--live.

"Nan!"

The word was distinct, but, oh, the weakness of voice. The girl
thrilled.

"Yes, Jeff. I'm here. I'm right beside you."

"Tell me--things."

The girl's heart sank. In a flash she remembered all there was to
tell. Why had his first thoughts on returning life been of
these--things? Yet it was like him--so like him. She drew a deep
breath and resorted to subterfuge.

"It'