d man. It
may hurt, when I lift him off your leg. I'll raise him up and put a
rock under, and pull you out. Can you stand that?"

"Me? Hell, yes. Ain't I been standing pain since before daylight? Me,
I can stand anything if I have to!"

Yet he fainted when Lance took him by the shoulders and pulled him
free, and Lance used half the water in the canteen on the saddle in
bringing him back to consciousness. When the fellow opened his eyes,
Lance remembered that he had half a pint of whisky in his coat pocket,
and offered it to the injured one.

"Golly, that's a life-saver!" he ejaculated when he had taken two
swallows. He reached down and felt his crushed leg, grimacing at the
pain of returning circulation.

"She's busted all right. Busted _right_, if I'm any judge. And my
side--things are all busted up in there. I know it. Say, oldtimer, how
do you figure you're going to get me outa here? Do you know it's all
of ten miles to the nearest ranch? I've got a map of the whole country
in my coat pocket. I'll show yuh if you don't know. You're a stranger,
I guess. I don't recollect seeing yore horse before. I always know
horses. What's his brand?"

Lance did not say. He himself was wondering how he was going to get
the man out of there. If the fellow thought he was a stranger, all
the better. Still, it did not matter much. Already the whisky was
whipping the man's brain to quicker action, loosening his tongue that
had already been set wagging by fever.

"Think you can stand it to ride?" he asked solicitously. "I can heave
you into the saddle, if you can stand being moved. I'd ride to the
next ranch and bring a wagon--but the country's too rough. A rig
couldn't get within five miles of here."

"You're right. Not even Belle Lorrigan's buckboard could make it
across that canyon on beyond. Say, speaking of the Lorrigans--" he
hesitated, then plunged recklessly on. "I'm going to pass you some
dope I've got on that outfit. The chances are I'm done for. The way my
insides feel--and you do something for me, will you? If I cash in, you
turn in this dope. We may as well 'tend to this business right now,
before I tackle the job of riding."

Lance stood looking down at him while he fumbled in his pocket, pulled
out a small leather notebook and some papers.

"I'm a stock detective, see. My name's Burt Brownlee. I was just about
ready to turn in the dope and have the whole outfit pulled. Well, it's
all here. They been rustling rig