Sarah looked fearfully at the high fence. "I just know I can't get over." Blue Bonnet gave her a withering glance. "You--Woodfordite!" was the worst epithet she dared trust herself to before a stranger. "Then you'll have to hold the horses. There's no river to spill into here--and you don't have to pull them over backwards." "There's no need, really," the young fellow interrupted. "I can bring Abbott if he's here." He raised his right hand, put the tips of two fingers to his lips and blew. The shrillest, most penetrating whistle the girls had ever heard pierced the air, causing the colts to lunge forward in a way that might have precipitated another catastrophe, had not Blue Bonnet's little steel wrist brought them up sharply. At the summons a tall lanky figure appeared from within the tent and stood peering under his hand at the occupants of the buckboard. The youth whistled again, this time only with his lips,--a bird-like call. "That's his frat whistle. Ought to bring him." And bring him it did. The lanky figure deserted the tent and with an eager stride crossed the meadow and came up to the fence. After one scrutinizing glance at the girls his eye fell on the boy and he grinned broadly. "Hullo, Knight!--is it really you? Glad to see you, old chap!" "Hello, Doc. How am I going to get over this hospitable fence of yours?" returned the boy, with an abruptness born of an aching wrist. "My nag threw me and I've broken my left arm. Know anybody that can set it?" He winked impudently at the fledgling doctor. The latter beamed with professional delight. "Just my line, dear boy. I wish it had been your leg, now,--I do those beautifully!" "Or my neck--I don't doubt it. But this is quite enough, thank you," retorted the boy. He was white with pain and yet could joke!--it was the sort of pluck Blue Bonnet admired. "If your cousin will drive down to the gate,--" the young man suggested. The boy looked a trifle embarrassed. "This isn't my cousin," he replied. "These gir--er--young ladies picked me up after my spill and--" "I'm Elizabeth Ashe," Blue Bonnet supplied, coloring slightly. "Of the Blue Bonnet ranch?" asked the medico, and at her affirmative nod he added, "I've met Mr. Ashe." "This is Doctor Abbott," said the boy, striving to make the introduction easily, though one could see that such social amenities were not a matter of habit with him. "I can't claim that title yet," the "doctor" protested. "My friends bestowed it when I was a freshman. I hope to earn it yet. Now, Knight,--about that arm. If Miss Ashe will drive on--there's a gate a hundred yards down the road. It isn't big enough to drive through, but I'll meet you there. I've some bandages in my tent. Be with you in a minute." He appeared at the little gate bearing a most professional looking leather case and various packages that emitted queer odors. His enjoyment of the operation in store was plain.