“An angel from heaven couldn’t do more for me than you’ve done, Miss Reed. I’ll always remember it--always. If it’s any comfort for you to know it, be sure one scamp will never forget the girl who out of her infinite kindness stretched down a hand to him when he was sinking in the mud.” “But won’t you take the hand?” she whispered, all eager desire to help. “It’s not a very strong one, I’m afraid, but it’s ever so willing.” He took it, literally, and looked down at it where it lay in his. “I’m taking it, you see. Don’t blame yourself if it can’t pull the scalawag out of the mire. _Facilis descensus Averni_, you know.” “Is your trouble so far beyond help?” she murmured, and in her eyes he read the leap of her sweet and gallant soul toward him. “I can’t believe it. Surely there can’t be any sorrow or distress that friendship won’t lighten. If you’ll let me in where you are--if you won’t shut me out by freezing yourself up--” The honk of an automobile horn had drawn Forbes to the window, from which point of observation he was reporting progress to his employer. “Reckon it’s the sheriff an’ Doc Rayburn.... Yep. They’re gettin’ outa the car an’ comin’ in.” He turned to Reed. “What about this fellow here? What’s the play we’re makin’ to Daniels?” “That he came to warn us, but got here too late. I’ll do the talking, Lon.” A fat little man with a medicine case in his hand bustled into the room. At his heels moved a big blond cattleman whose faded blue eyes were set in a face of brown leather. “What’s the trouble? What’s the trouble?” fumed the doctor. It was his habit of mind and manner to effervesce. “Some tramps set fire to my wheat and shot me up, Doc. Nothing worth putting in the papers, I reckon,” answered the ranchman easily. “Let’s see about that. Let’s see,” the doctor said with his little touch of pomposity. He stripped his automobile gloves for action. CHAPTER XII “IS THIS BIRD A PRISONER, OR AIN’T HE?” While Dr. Rayburn, with Betty and Forbes to wait upon him, made preparations to dress the wound, Sheriff Daniels listened to the story of the ranchman. The officer was a hard-headed Westerner who applied common sense to the business of maintaining law and order. “Looks like that tramp Cig did it, unless this young fellow is passing the buck for an alibi,” he said in a low voice. Reed shook his head. “No, Frank. This boy’s all right. I thought at first he might be in it, but I know now he wasn’t. He helped my girl out of a hole yesterday--licked this Cig because he got fresh with Bess. Even before that he had parted company with the other two. You’ll go to barkin’ up the wrong tree if you suspect him.”