The speaker was Marvel Rice, proprietor of the store in which Huson was a clerk. "Tell him to hurry--hurry!" the merchant cried again, as without a second's hesitation the two boys sped away along the tan-bark path. "Are you coming, Ree?" asked the more slender lad, glancing over his shoulder with a droll smile. He was a wiry chap of sixteen and ran like a grey hound, easily taking the lead. His companion made no reply, but his spirit fired by the sarcastic question, he forged ahead, and the other found it necessary to waste no more breath in humor. An admirer of youthful strength and development would have clapped his hands with delight to have seen the boys' close race. Return Kingdom, whom the slender lad had called "Ree," was a tall, strongly built, muscular fellow of seventeen. His fine black hair waved under the brim of a dilapidated beaver as he ran. His brown eyes were serious and keen and his mouth and chin emphasized the determination expressed in them. Though his clothes were of rough home-spun stuff, and his feet were encased in coarse boots, an observing person would have seen that he was possessed of the decision and strength in both mind and body which go to make leaders among men. The smaller boy was John Jerome--quick, vigorous, brown-haired, blue-eyed, freckled, and his attire was like that of his companion whose follower he was in everything save foot-racing. In that he would give way to no one, not excluding the trained Indian runners who sometimes came to the neighboring village. "Easy, easy!" Dr. Cartwright sang out, the boys nearly colliding with him as he was driving from his dooryard. "Somebody dying?" he asked as the runners halted. "Jim Huson's been hurt; they want you at the store, quick," Ree Kingdom breathlessly explained. "Badly?" asked the doctor with provoking deliberation, drawing on his gloves. "Pretty nigh killed, I guess; Big Pete Ellis did it," put in John Jerome, amazed that the physician did not at once drive off at lightning speed. "And they want me to finish the job do they?" smiled Dr. Cartwright, who was never known to become excited. "Well, I'll see what I can do. Daisy, get up." The latter words were for the faithful mare that had drawn the doctor's chaise, or two-wheeled carriage, summer and winter for so many years that she was as well known as the physician himself. The horse set off at a leisurely jog, but the master's second "Get up Daisy," though drawled out as if haste were the last thing to be thought of, quickened the animal's speed to a lively trot. The boys started back at a walk, speculating on what could have provoked Big Pete's assault and how serious Jim Huson's injury might be. "It upsets all our plans," said John; "for Jim was just the fellow to tell us the price of everything and just what western emigrants should take along. We can't talk to Mr. Rice about our going, as we could talk to Jim."