probably make
their way back, Bill said. So would the last little bunch. But he would
send the boys down after them just as soon as they had put the three
prisoners away in the cabin with a guard until the sheriff could come and
get them. Which would be easy, Bill said. They'd telephone to the ranch
and have the message repeated on the town line.

Everything was easy, Bill said, except getting Skyrider to a doctor
quick, without shaking him up too much. And getting the flying machine
outa there--though he guessed mebby Skyrider wouldn't want no more flyin'
in his. He guessed mebby Skyrider would aim to keep one foot on solid
ground hereafter--if he didn't go clean under it. That shore was a bad
lookin' head he had on 'im.

Which brought forth questions from Mary V, and the somewhat qualified
comfort of Bland's experience.

Johnny's next dream was a nightmare of pain and jolting. He did not know
where he was, but it seemed to him that something kept pounding him on
the head; something very hot and very heavy--something he could not
escape because his head was being held in a vice of some sort. The pain
and the jolting seemed to have no relation to this steady beating. The
dream lasted a long, long while. And after that there was darkness and
silence.

That came when he had been put to bed at the Rolling R ranch house, in a
guest room that faced north. A doctor was there, waiting for them when
they arrived, because Sudden had telephoned him when he had finished
calling for the sheriff. The boys had told him soberly that Skyrider was
bad off, and that his whole head was smashed, and that the flyin' machine
was busted all to pieces. They didn't hardly think it would be worth
while getting a doctor to the ranch, because they didn't see how Skyrider
was goin' to last long enough for a doctor to git to work on him. It was
a damn shame. Skyrider was one fine boy--and did anybody know where his
folks lived?

But the doctor was sent for just the same, and he was ready to do what
could be done. It looked at first as though that was not much. Mary V had
kept cold cloths on Johnny's head during the whole drive, and the doctor
told her that she had made it a little more possible to pull the young
man through. He certainly had received a terrible blow, and--well, the
doctor refused to predict anything at all. Johnny was a strong-looking,
healthy young man--it took a lot to kill a youngster like that. He
advised a nurse, and gav