The moment that he had helped haul the climber to safety Gowan had ridden away with the horses to the camp. He now came jogging back with the tent and all else that they had not been carrying with them in their skirting of the canyon edge. He unloaded the packs and hastened to pitch the tent. As he was finishing, Isobel called to him sharply. "What are you doing there, Kid? That can wait. Come here." "Yes, Miss Chuckie," he replied with ready obedience. But when he came down the slope to the little group, his mouth was like a thin gash across his lean jaws. He stared coldly at Ashton between narrowed lids. "Want me to help tote him up by the fire?" he asked. "No!" she replied. "It is Tom! He is down there--his leg broken--and no food! You must go down to him." "Go down?" queried the puncher. "What good would that do? I couldn't help him with that climb. He weighs a good two hundred." "You can take food down to him and let him know that help is coming. You must!" Gowan looked sullenly at the unconscious man. "Sorry, Miss Chuckie. It's no go. I ain't a mountain sheep." "But _he_ came up!" "That's different. It's a sight easier going up cliffs than climbing down. No, you'll have to excuse me, Miss Chuckie." The girl flamed with indignant anger. "You coward! You saw him come up, after all that time down in those fearful depths--after fighting his way all those miles along the terrible river--yet you dare not go down! You coward! you quitter!" The puncher's face turned a sickly yellow, and he seemed to shrink in on himself. His voice sank to a husky whisper: "You can say that, Miss Chuckie! Any man say it, he'd be dead before now. If you want to know, I've got a mighty good reason for not wanting to go down. It ain't that I'm afraid. You can bank on that. It's something else. I'll go quick enough--but it's got to be on one condition. You've got to promise to marry me." "_Marry you?_" "Yes. You know how I've felt towards you all these years. Promise to marry me, and I'll go to hell and back for you. I'll do anything for you. I'll save him!" "You cur! You'd force me to bargain myself to you!" she cried, fairly beside herself with righteous fury. "I thought you a man! You cur--you cowardly cur!" Gowan turned from her and walked rapidly away along the canyon edge, his head hunched between his shoulders, his hands downstretched at his thighs, the fingers crooked convulsively. "Oh!" gasped Genevieve. "You've driven him away! Call him back! We need him! He must go for help!" The words shocked the girl out of her rash anger. Her flushed face whitened with fear. "Kid!" she screamed. "Come back, Kid! You must go to the ranch--bring the men!" The cry of appeal should have brought him back to her on the run. It pierced high above the booming reverberations of the canyon. Yet he paid no heed. He neither halted nor paused nor even looked back. If anything, he hurried away faster than before.