had one that
justified him. The two miles would not take long. He would have to
hurry back, for indeed it looked as if a storm were sweeping down from
the black peaks. Pan realized that he should have gotten his errand
done earlier in the day.

The cold wind stung his face and made his eyes water. Curly loped at
his easy swift stride over the well-trodden trail. The bleached grass
waved, the tumbleweeds rolled along the brown ground. There was no
sun. All the west was draped in drab clouds. Soon Pan was riding down
into the swale where Blake lived. The cottonwoods were almost bare.
Only a few yellow leaves clung to the branches, and every moment a leaf
fluttered down. Here in this swale Pan caught the autumn smells, dank
and woody.

Once across the swale he put his pony to a gallop and soon reached
Uncle George's homestead. No one at home! The horse and wagon were
gone. Pan left his package and turned back. As he trotted past the
Blake gate Pan heard a faint call. It startled him. Reining in Curly
he listened and looked. Blake's cabin stood back out of sight among
the Cottonwoods. The barn, however, with its low open-sided shed,
stood just inside the gate. The cows had been brought in for milking.
A lusty calf was trying to steal milk from its mother. Chickens were
going to roost. Pan did not believe that any of these had made the
call. He was about to ride on by when suddenly he again caught a
strange cry that appeared to come from the barn or shed. It excited
rather than frightened him. Sliding off Curly he pushed open the big
board gate and ran in.

Under the open shed he found Mrs. Blake lying on some hay which
evidently she had just pulled down from the loft. When she saw Pan her
pale convulsed face changed somehow. "Oh--thank God!" she cried.

"Are you hurted?" asked Pan in hurried sympathy. "Did you fall out of
the haymow?"

"No, but I'm in terrible pain."

"Aw--you're sick?"

"Yes. And I'm alone. Will you please--go for your mother?"

"Mama an' Daddy went to town," replied Pan in distress. "An' nobody's
home at Uncle George's."

"Then you must be a brave little man and help me."

Bill Smith hurrying homeward with his wife and Jim Blake were belated
by the storm. It was midnight when they arrived at Bill's house. They
found Curly with bridle hanging, standing in the snow beside the barn.
Mrs. Smith was distracted. Bill and Jim, though worried, did not fear
the worst.