at sheepishly, though, as the
cook had explained, it was not their fault they had arrived after the
fight was over; and while they carried their master upstairs Breckenridge
thought he heard another beat of hoofs. He paid no great attention to it,
but when Larry had been laid on the bed glanced towards the window at the
streaks of flame breaking through the smoke that rolled about a birch-log
building.

"What can be done?" he said.

"I don't know that we can do anything," answered the cook. "The fire has
got too good a holt, but it's not likely to light anything else the way
the wind is. It was one of them blame Chicago rustlers put the firestick
in."

"Pshaw!" said Breckenridge. "Let it burn. I mean, what can be done for
Larry?"

"We might give him some whiskey--only we haven't any. Still, I've seen
this kind of thing happen in the Michigan lumber-camps, and I guess he's
most as well without it. You want to give a man's brains time to settle
down after they've had a big shake-up."

Breckenridge sat down limply on the foot of the bed, faint and dizzy, and
wondering if he really heard a regular, rhythmic drumming through the
snapping of the flame. It grew louder while he listened, and a faint
musical jingling became audible with it.

"That sounds like cavalry," the cook said. "They have been riding round
and seen the blaze."

And a few minutes later a voice rose sharply outside, and some, at least,
of the riders pulled up. The cook, at a sign from Breckenridge, went down,
and came back by and by with a man in bespattered blue uniform.

"Captain Cheyne, United States cavalry--at your service," he said. "I am
afraid I have come a trifle late to be of much use; but a few of my men
are trying to pick up the rustlers' trail. Now, how did that man get hurt,
and what is the trouble about?"

Breckenridge told him as concisely as he could, and Cheynes bent over the
silent figure on the bed.

"Quietness is often good in these cases; but there is such a thing as
collapse following the shock, and I guess by your friend's face it might
be well to try to rouse him," he said. "Have you any brandy?"

"No," said Breckenridge. "It has been quite a time since we had that or
any other luxuries in this house. Its owner stripped himself for the
benefit of the men who did their best to kill him."

Cheyne brought out a flask. "This should do as well," he said. "You can
tell that man to boil some water, and in the meanwhile help m