She was supporting his head and trying to stop the flow of blood that trickled from a wound in his right temple. The girl was deathly pale and watched the stricken man anxiously, as with tender care she loosened his shirt at the front. Bud’s face was set tense as he bent over and examined the wound. “Bullet just creased him,” he announced briefly, his face lighting up. “He will be all right in an hour or two.” Josephine’s heart leaped at the words. She had a deep admiration for this Easterner who had come among them to fight life’s battle anew. She shuddered as she realized how close the bullet had struck. Then a wave of reaction seized her and she trembled violently. Bud had noticed her agitation and said kindly, “Come, girl, this is no place for you. I will take you to the house.” On his return, Mason had partly recovered and was talking with the ranch owner, who had bound up his wound. Mason smiled feebly as Bud came up to them. “Fool stunt of mine to topple over the way I did,” he said, feeling of the bandage gingerly. “Not so,” Bud protested quickly, while admiring the other’s iron nerve. “That was a close call you had, son. Lucky for you the halfbreed’s aim was bad.” “I seem to get in bad all around,” Mason answered ruefully. “The ranch owner tells me that Powers has cleared out, too,” he added. “Glad of it,” Bud growled, “hope my men run that greaser down, but they ain’t got much of a chance, with him on Josephine’s horse.” Late that night the men came trooping in. They had been thrown off the trail when darkness set in, but all vowed they would get the halfbreed if it took them all summer. They were overjoyed when told that Mason would be all right in a day or two. He had won them all by his exhibition of strength and nerve, and they would fight for him to the last man. Bud questioned the cowboys about their hunt for the halfbreed, and Buck Miller, acting as spokesman, gave his opinion that when they lost the halfbreed’s trail he was making for Devil’s Gap and would circle back to the Ricker ranch. “We’ll pay Mr. Ricker a visit,” Bud said grimly, his gray eyes flashing. “This is the halfbreed’s revenge for your knocking him down that day at Trader’s Post, Jack,” he added. The following day as the cowboys were starting out to track the halfbreed down, Scotty, who had made an early trip to the Post, thrust a letter in Mason’s hand. It was from his father, and hastily tearing it open he read the contents. The letter read: My dear Son: