y.

Roger ran up the steps. "Where's Charley?"

Dick planted himself belligerently in the doorway, "Get out!" Roger
moved slowly toward him. A heavy odor of cologne enveloped Dick. A quick
surmise flashed over Roger.

"Felicia needs Charley, Dick, I've got to fetch her."

"Get out!" repeated Dick sullenly. He gave a lunge toward Roger and
Roger met him with a quick undercut on the jaw that laid Dick flat. He
dragged him down the trail to the seed and tool shack, where he turned
the heavy button on the door. Then he ran into the house.

Charley lay on the floor, her hair in disorder about her. Roger, with an
oath, stooped over her, then ran for a cup of water and bathed her face.
In a moment she opened her eyes. Roger's own eyes were black with
excitement but he met her puzzled gaze with a twisted smile.

"There you are, Charley! Where are you hurt?"

She did not answer but struggled to rise and Roger putting an arm under
her shoulder helped her to her feet where she leaned dizzily against
him, for a moment, shoulder to shoulder.

"Where's Felicia, Roger?"

"Safe with Elsa at the Plant. Sit down here on the couch, Charley. Where
did Dick strike you?"

"He--he--where is he, Roger?" clinging suddenly to Roger's hand as he
laid her back on the couch.

"Locked in the tool house. Charley, you _must_ tell me what happened so
I can help you."

"Why--he--he pushed me backward and I must have hit something when I
fell. The back of my head is very sore and my head aches terribly--and
I'm a little sick at my stomach."

"Let me see your head," said Roger peremptorily. He parted the mass of
bronze brown hair, wondering even in his anger and pity at its softness
and thickness. It was not difficult to locate the great lump at the base
of the skull.

"He might have killed you if it hadn't been for your hair. The skin
isn't broken. Be still, Charley, till I get a basin of water and a
towel."

He was back in a moment and sitting down on the edge of the couch, he
attempted to bathe the swelling. But Charley groaned in agony at the
first touch, so he gave that up and bathed her face and wrist awkwardly
but very gently.

"I guess it's my turn to say 'Poor Child,'" Roger murmured.

The quick tears sprang to Charley's eyes. At this moment Dick gave an
incoherent shout. Charley gripped Roger's hand.

"It's all right," he said. "He can't get out, the whelp!"

"Roger! Don't hurt him. Promise me you won't hurt him!"

"Hu