e and rode into Forks
for Doc. Osler, the veterinary surgeon, the only available medical man
in that part of the country.

When Diane found herself alone with the man she loved stretched out
before her, inert, like one dead, her first inclination was to sit
down and weep for him. She could face her own troubles with a certain
fortitude, but to see this strong man laid low, perhaps dying, was a
different thing, and her womanly weakness was near to overcoming her.
But though the unshed tears filled her eyes, her love brought its
courage to her aid, and she approached the task Arizona had pointed
out.

With deft fingers she removed the sodden bandage, through which the
blood was slowly oozing. The flow, which at once began again, alarmed
her, and set her swiftly to work. Now she understood as well as
Arizona did what was amiss. She hurried out to her own room, and
returned quickly with materials for rebandaging, and her arms full of
clothes. Then, with the greatest care, she proceeded to bind up the
neck, placing a cork on the artery below the severance. This she
strapped down so tightly that, for the time at least, the bleeding was
staunched. Her object accomplished, she proceeded to dress herself
ready for the doctor's coming.

She had taken her place at the bedside, and was meditating on what
further could be done for her patient, when an event happened on which
she had in nowise reckoned. Somebody was ascending the stair with the
shuffling gait of one feeling his way. It was her father. The first
time within her memory that he had visited the upper part of the
house.

A look of alarm leapt into her eyes as she gazed at the door, watching
for his coming, and she realized only too well the possibilities of
the situation. What would he say? What would he do?

A moment later she was facing him with calm courage. Her fears had
been stifled by the knowledge of her lover's helplessness. One look at
his dear, unconscious form had done for her what nothing else could
have done. Her filial duty went out like a candle snuffed with wet
fingers. There was not even a spark left.

Julian Marbolt stepped across the threshold, and his head slowly moved
round as though to ascertain in what direction his daughter was
sitting. The oil-lamp seemed to attract his blind attention, and his
eyes fixed themselves upon it; but for a moment only. Then they passed
on until they settled on the girl.

"Where is he?" he asked coldly. "I can