it,--some one was heard climbing up through the bushes
toward the road a little distance ahead.

The men stepped forward and waited, each one with his hand in the
neighborhood of his belt, whilst the women instinctively fell to the
rear. The next moment Keith appeared over the edge of the road. As he
stepped into the light it was seen that his face was bleeding and that
his left arm hung limp at his side.

The men called to Terpy to come back: that Keith was there. A moment
later she emerged from the bushes and clambered up the bank.

"Did you get him?" was the first question she asked.

"No." Keith gave the girl a swift glance, and turning quietly, he asked
one of the men to help him off with his coat. In the light of the lamp
he had a curious expression on his white face.

"Terpy was that skeered about you, she swore she was goin' down there to
help you," said the miner who still held the hat.

A box on the ear from the young woman stopped whatever further
observation he was going to make.

"Shut up. Don't you see he's hurt?" She pushed away the man who was
helping Keith off with his coat, and took his place.

No one who had seen her as she relieved Keith of the coat and with
dexterous fingers, which might have been a trained nurse's, cut away the
bloody shirt-sleeve, would have dreamed that she was the virago who, a
few moments before, had been raging in the road, swearing like a
trooper, and cuffing men's ears.

When the sleeve was removed it was found that Keith's arm was broken
just above the elbow, and the blood was pouring from two small wounds.
Terpy levied imperiously on the other passengers for handkerchiefs;
then, not waiting for their contributions, suddenly lifting her skirt,
whipped off a white petticoat, and tore it into strips. She soon had the
arm bound up, showing real skill in her surgery. Once she whispered a
word in his ear--a single name. Keith remained silent, but she read his
answer, and went on with her work with a grim look on her face. Then
Keith mounted his box against the remonstrances of every one, and the
passengers having reentered the stage, Wickersham drove on into Gumbolt.
His manner was more respectful to Keith than it had ever been before.

Within a half-hour after their arrival the sheriff and his party, with
Dave Dennison at the head of the posse, were on their horses, headed for
the scene of the "hold-up." Dave could have had half of Gumbolt for
posse had he desired it