"Take your wagon and fill the box with hay and bring him down. By coming back slowly he won't be jarred, and he has to be brought out anyway. If he's dead, well, bring his body just the same. A doctor should be easily at your house by the time you arrive; and your story is that a sheepherder found him lying by his wrecked car, carried him into the cabin and then came down and told you of the accident, on which you went and brought him in, not knowing, of course, in the dark who he was or what he was doing up there or how the smash-up had occurred. You might suggest that he was camping there by himself to fish, and stop at that." Johnson nodded. "I'll say just enough and no more," he remarked. "If you start at once, you'll be there by daylight if not before. That will get you back here by nine or ten o'clock. I don't want him taken to San Mateo; that would stir up a swarm of inquiries and might even send some of the curious up to the spot. Let the trail get cold, so to speak. People aren't half as curious about a thing three or four days after it happens as at the moment." "I've noticed that myself." "And another thing, I don't wish his father to learn of the matter just yet. Under other circumstances he should be the first to know, but I want the news kept from him for a special reason. Besides, it would be better if he found out about it from others and through roundabout channels. His son up there I don't see doing any talking himself for some time if he does live. When he is able to talk, I believe he'll decide to keep his mouth shut or just accept the explanation given that he was fishing or something of that kind. When the doctor has looked him over, either he or you will carry him to Bowenville. If we could ship him at once to Gaston, where there's some sort of a hospital, I suppose, or even to Santa Fé, that would be the thing. He'd be out of the way; there'd be no talk; there would be no explanations to make except to the doctor." "Every doctor round these parts probably knows him," Johnson said, "and so would insist on taking him home." "There's a new one at Bowenville, father says," Janet put in. "A young man, just starting practice. He hasn't been there but a few weeks and may not know Ed." "He's the man for us!" Weir declared. "We'll send for him. Now we must be going." Steele arose from the table and stretched his shoulders. "And I'll hitch up my team immediately," the rancher said. "I'll go with you," Mary exclaimed. "Tut, tut, girl." "I can help you, and I want to do something to help Mr. Weir and Janet Hosmer, even if it's only a little bit. I'm strong, I don't care if it is late--anyway, I'd just have nightmares if I stayed here alone,--and I can help you with him. I'm going," she ended, obstinately. Johnson eyed her for a moment, then yielded. "Nothing to be afraid of now," he rejoined, "but if you would rather go along with your dad, all right."