“I’m going to Muirhead’s with you.” One of the men turned and looked at her. Agnes recognized him. He was Dr. Flint, a friend of Parker Willett’s, and she remembered his history. A man well born, well educated, but one who had been wild and dissipated, and who had drifted west where he led a reckless, irregular life, sometimes practising medicine, sometimes living for months among the backwoodsmen. Finally he made the fatal error of giving a wrong medicine to a man who was not on very friendly terms with him. When the man died, though Dr. Flint’s friends knew that he was dazed with drink when he made the mistake, an angry crowd of the dead man’s companions charged him with doing it purposely. Dod Hunter, Parker Willett, and one other kept the crowd at bay till they had convinced them of their injustice, and had swung their sympathies around toward Dr. Flint. After this he would never prescribe for any one. He did not object to practising surgery, and he had kept perfectly sober for several years. Dod Hunter and Parker Willett could claim any service from him, as well they might, since he owed his life to them. Agnes remembered all this sad story, and was glad to see the man there. She knew his devotion to Parker, and knew that nothing would stand in the way of his defence of him. As the doctor eyed her sharply Dod Hunter gave him a nod. “Friend o’ Park’s,” he said. “Good little gal. I shouldn’t wonder if Park was sweet on her.” Then to Agnes who had not heard the aside, “So, lass, yer ready to jine the s’arch party, are ye?” “I am going to Muirhead’s.” “What for?” “To see Humphrey Muirhead and tell him who saved his little boy. If I can’t see Hump, I will see his wife and tell her and make her promise to tell her husband.” Dod nodded approval. “Good scheme, but maybe it won’t work, and we ain’t no full proof that he’s got Park.” “It will do no harm if he hasn’t.” “That’s true, too. Come along, then, if you want to go with us. We’re not likely to have a pitch battle before we git there, and a gal that has fit Injuns ain’t goin’ to squeal at sight of a gun. Will ye hoof it or shall I git ye a hoss?” “I’ll go as you do. I should think you would know that,” Agnes replied with some asperity. “It’s not the first search-party I’ve gone with, Uncle Dod. You know I was with them when they found my father.” “Sure enough. I mind their tellin’ me of it at M’Clean’s. Start on, boys.” The rescuing party set forth, but there was no sign of a human being to be seen in any of the haunts to which the Hunters led them. “I shall go to the house,” Agnes declared her intention, “and you may come with me or I will go alone, whichever Uncle Dod thinks best.” The men debated the proposition. “I don’t know as it would be well to let Muirhead know we have wind of the thing,” said Dod Hunter, “but I have my doubts about it’s bein’ the right thing for us to let a gal go up there alone.” “I’m not afraid, if that is all,” Agnes said.