rattled; or else he figgered that it warn't no
use, if Phil should be able to tell what happened. The way I make it out
is that Phil jumped him right in the act, so sudden that he shot without
thinkin'; you know how he acts quick that-a-way. An' then he seen what
he had done, an' that it was more than an even break that Phil wouldn't
live, an' so figgered that his chance was better to stay an' run a bluff
by comin' for help, an' all that. If he'd tried to make his get-away,
there wouldn't 'a' been no question about it; an' he's got just nerve
enough to take the chance he's a-takin' by stayin' right with the game."

Patches started as though to go toward the men, but at that moment the
doctor came from the house. As the physician approached the waiting
group, that odd, mirthless, self-mocking smile touched Patches' lips;
then he stepped forward to listen with the others to the doctor's words.

Phil had a chance, the doctor said, but he told them frankly that it was
only a chance. The injured man's wonderful vitality, his clean blood and
unimpaired physical strength, together with his unshaken nerve and an
indomitable will, were all greatly in his favor. With careful nursing
they might with reason hope for his recovery.

With expressions of relief, the group separated. Patches walked away
alone. Mr. Reid, who would return to Prescott with the doctor, said to
his daughter when the physician was ready, "Come, Kitty, I'll go by the
house, so as to take you and Mrs. Manning home."

But Kitty shook her head. "No, father. I'm not going home. Stella needs
me here. Helen understands, don't you, Helen?"

And wise Mrs. Manning, seeing in Kitty's face something that the man had
not observed, answered, "Yes, dear, I do understand. You must stay, of
course. I'll run over again in the morning."

"Very well," answered Mr. Reid, who seemed in somewhat of a hurry. "I
know you ought to stay. Tell Stella that mother will be over for a
little while this evening." And the automobile moved away.

That night, while Mrs. Baldwin and Kitty watched by Phil's bedside, and
Patches, in his room, waited, sleepless, alone with his thoughts, men
from the ranch on the other side of the quiet meadow were riding swiftly
through the darkness. Before the new day had driven the stars from the
wide sky, a little company of silent, grim-faced horsemen gathered in
the Pot-Hook-S corral. In the dim, gray light of the early morning they
followed Jim Reid out