s not in?" inquired Barney.

"He is gone up the Big Horn."

"We can't possibly get him to-night," replied Barney.

Silently they looked at each other, thinking rapidly. They each knew
that the other was ready to do the best, no matter at what cost.

"Take my temperature, Margaret." It was nine-nine and one-fifth. "That's
not bad," said Barney. "Margaret, I must go. It's for 'Mexico's' life.
Yes, and more."

Margaret turned slightly pale. "You know best, Barney," she said, "but
it may be your life, you know."

"Yes," he replied gravely. "I take that chance. But I think I ought to
take it, don't you?" But Margaret refused to speak. "What do you think,
Margaret?" he asked.

"Oh, Barney!" she cried, with passionate protest, "why should you give
your life for him?"

"Why?" he repeated slowly. "There was One who gave His life for me.
Besides," he added, after a pause, "there's a fair chance that I can get
through."

She threw herself on her knees beside his bed. "No, Barney, there's
almost no chance, you know and I know, and I can't let you go now!"
The passionate love in her voice and in her eyes startled him. Gravely,
earnestly, his eyes searched her face and read her heart. Slowly the
crimson rose in her cheeks and flooded the fair face and neck. She
buried her face in the bed. Gently he laid his hand upon her head,
stroking the golden hair. For some moments they remained thus, silent.
Then, refusing to accept the confession of her word and look and act, he
said, in a voice grave and kind and tender, "You expect me to do right,
Margaret."

A shudder ran through the kneeling girl. Once more the cup of
renunciation was being pressed to her lips. To the last drop she drained
it, then raised her head. She was pale but calm. The bright blue eyes
looked into his bravely while she answered simply, "You will do what is
right, Barney."

Just as he was about to start on his journey another wire came in.
"Didn't know you were so ill. Don't you come. I'm all right. 'Mexico.'"
A rumour of the serious nature of the doctor's illness had evidently
reached "Mexico," and he would not have his friend risk his life for
him. A fierce storm was raging. The out train was hours late, but a
light engine ran up from the Crossing and brought the doctor down.

When he entered the sick man's room "Mexico" glanced into his face.
"Good Lord, Doctor!" he cried, "you shouldn't have come! You're worse
than me!"

"All right, 'Mexico,'" rep