possible. The next instant Patches was in Phil's saddle
and riding as he had never ridden before.

Jim Reid, with Kitty and Helen, was on the way back from Prescott as
Kitty had planned. They were within ten miles of the ranch when the
cattleman, who sat at the wheel of the automobile, saw a horseman coming
toward them. A moment he watched the approaching figure, then, over his
shoulder, he said to the girls, "Look at that fellow ride. There's
something doin', sure." As he spoke he turned the machine well out of
the road.

A moment later he added, "It's Curly Elson from the Cross-Triangle.
Somethin's happened in the valley." As he spoke, he stopped the machine,
and sprang out so that the cowboy could see and recognize him.

Curly did not draw rein until he was within a few feet of Reid; then he
brought his running horse up with a suddenness that threw the animal on
its haunches.

Curly spoke tersely. "Phil Acton is shot. We need a doctor quick."

Without a word Jim Reid leaped into the automobile. The car backed to
turn around. As it paused an instant before starting forward again,
Kitty put her hand on her father's shoulder.

"Wait!" she cried. "I'm going to Phil. Curly, I want your horse; you can
go with father."

The cowboy was on the ground before she had finished speaking. And
before the automobile was under way Kitty was riding back the way Curly
had come.

Kitty was scarcely conscious of what she had said. The cowboy's first
words had struck her with the force of a physical blow, and in that
first moment, she had been weak and helpless. She had felt as though a
heavy weight pressed her down; a gray mist was before her eyes, and she
could not see clearly. "Phil Acton is shot--Phil Acton is shot!" The
cowboy's words had repeated themselves over and over. Then, with a
sudden rush, her strength came again--the mist cleared; she must go to
Phil; she must go fast, fast. Oh, why was this horse so slow! If only
she were riding her own Midnight! She did not think as she rode. She did
not wonder, nor question, nor analyze her emotions. She only felt. It
was Phil who was hurt--Phil, the boy with whom she had played when she
was a little girl--the lad with whom she had gone to school--the young
man who had won the first love of her young woman heart. It was Phil,
her Phil, who was hurt, and she must go to him--she must go fast, fast!

It seemed to Kitty that hours passed before she reached the meadow lane.
She wa