the direction he had gazed, and muttering aloud:

"No, I'm better off here. Queer how you can recognize a snake, no
matter how far off! That's Ferd, the dwarf; and if I was near enough
to touch him I couldn't keep my fingers off his dirty throat, nohow,
till I'd choked the life out of him! Ugh! When I think---- But I
mustn't think. I must just get up and jog on till I see a prettier
sight than that. If I can spy the hunchback at one mile off I can see
my little captain's bonny head at ten. Home, old 'Forty-niner'! Home's
the word!"

As if the thought of Jessica had put new strength into his body
Ephraim again shouldered his pack and started forward; but he had
proceeded a short distance only when he again halted and this time in
consternation. On the road before him, where it dipped slightly into a
hollow, lay the prostrate figure of a man, face downward in the dust;
and from the shrubbery near by came the helpless floundering of some
big animal and its occasional cry of distress, than which there is no
sound more pitiful in all the world.

Away flew the pack, and Ephraim bent over the man, gently turning him
over, and crying in fresh dismay:

"It's Marty! George Cromarty, of all men, dead as a doornail!"

Alas! Ephraim's home-coming was proving anything but the delight he
had anticipated. To be met first by the story of the trouble which had
visited Sobrante and now by this dreadful discovery almost unnerved
him; but he was a man of action and his hand flew to Marty's breast to
feel if his heart still beat. With the other hand he softly brushed
the dust from the rigid features and rubbed the colorless temples.
After a second or two his face brightened, and he cried aloud, as if
the other might hear and be cheered:

"Well, you aren't a dead man, after all, Marty, my lad! But I'd give a
heap, this minute, for a bit of cold water to give you. And, Atlantic!
I believe I'm losing my wits. 'Course, he's got it himself, handy. All
the boys carry a flask in their pockets, even on the short ride to
post, but Marty, being teetotal, fills his with water and gets laughed
at for his notions. A mighty good notion it'll prove for him if it
saves his life, and here goes!"

Raising Marty's lean body so that his head rested on the fallen
bundle, Ephraim secured the flask, found it full, and began to
moisten the white lips; then, cautiously, to force a few drops down
the stiffening throat. Success soon crowned his efforts since,