on his feet. He jabbed and
sidestepped and retreated. More than once their heavy blows crashed home
on his face. His eyes dared not wander from them for an instant, but he
was working toward a definite plan. As he moved, his feet were searching
for the automatic he had dropped.

One of his feet, dragging over the ground, came into contact with the
steel. With a swift side kick Gordon flung the weapon a dozen feet to
the left. Presently, watching his chance, he made a dive for it.

Trelawney, followed by Northrup, turned and ran. One of them caught
Macdonald's horse by the bridle. He swung to the saddle and the other
man clambered on behind. There was a clatter of hoofs and they were
gone.

Elliot stooped over the battered body that lay huddled at the edge
of the water. The man was either dead or unconscious, he was not sure
which. So badly had the face been beaten and hammered that it was not
until he had washed the blood from the wounds that Gordon recognized
Macdonald.

Opening the coat of the insensible man, Gordon put his hand against the
heart. He could not be sure whether he felt it beating or whether the
throbbing came from the pulses in his finger tips. As well as he could
he bound up the wounds with handkerchiefs and stanched the bleeding.
With ice-cold water from the stream he drenched the bruised face. A
faint sigh quivered through the slack, inert body.

Gordon hoisted Macdonald across the saddle and led the horse through
the ford. He walked beside the animal to town, and never had two miles
seemed to him so far. With one hand he steadied the helpless body that
lay like a sack of flour balanced in the trough of the saddle.

Kusiak at last lay below him, and when he descended the hill to the
suburbs almost the first house was the one where the Pagets lived.

Elliot threw the body across his shoulder and walked up the walk to the
porch. He kicked upon the door with his foot. Sheba answered the knock,
and at sight of what he carried the color faded from her face.

"Macdonald has been hurt--badly," he explained quickly.

"This way," the girl cried, and led him to her own room, hurrying in
advance to throw back the bedclothes.

"Get Diane--and a doctor," ordered Gordon after he had laid the
unconscious man on the white sheet.

While he and Diane undressed the mine-owner Sheba got a doctor on the
telephone. The wounded man opened his eyes after a long time, but there
was in them the glaze of delirium.