Harvey."

"Here, Mr. Wing. What is wanted?"

And at the instant, prompt, alert, even smiling, Fanny Harvey appeared
before him. The pallor was gone. The dishevelled hair had been twisted
into shape. Food, rest, relief from dread and misery, and that little
appreciated beautifier, fresh water, had wrought their transformation
here. Wing's handsome eyes glistened as he removed his hat.

"I have to go up to that point yonder a few minutes, leaving old
Moreno alone, bound, to be sure, but his wife or daughter might slip
out and release him. Will you have the goodness--to take this--and
shoot him if they should make the attempt?" And he handed her his
pistol.

"I'll see to it that no one interferes with him, Mr. Wing. What has
happened? Are the others coming?" And she took the revolver, balancing
it in her accustomed and practised hand. The admiration deepened in
Wing's gaze.

"I see you handle a pistol as though you had used one. You're a true
frontiersman's daughter. I'll have to be away for a few minutes. I'm
going up to look from our rock above there. Some of our men, they say,
are in sight slowly returning, and the paymaster's ambulance is only a
mile away, probably waiting for the rest of the party. How is Miss
Ruth?"

"Sleeping like a baby, bless her heart."

"Well, I have promised Mr. Drummond that she should be his nurse. I
hope you will consent. He is sleeping, too. No fever yet, I am
thankful to say."

"Ruth will be ready, and so will I, to help in any way we can. But
when are you to have a rest, may I ask?"

"O-oh--by and by. Lee and the others must have theirs first. They have
been in saddle much longer and farther than I. When is Miss Harvey to
have _her_ rest, may _I_ ask?"

"We-l-l, I don't know. I'll say, 'perhaps by and by' too. Look! that
man is calling you."

Whirling about, Wing saw his sentinel beckoning, and in a moment he
went clambering up the rocky trail, active as a mountain Apache.

"What is it, Patterson?"

"It _is_ signal-smoke, sir, across the valley. That ain't more than
eight miles away, and down here in the range ain't more than six. What
Indians could be out here, I would like to know? Do they grow
everywhere in this infernal country?"

Wing took his glasses and long and earnestly studied the bluish-white
clouds rising in puffs, faint and barely distinguishable in the
opposite heights, then fixed his gaze upon the filmy column soaring up
among the dark pines at the hea