"That's--r-right. She knows what to--do. Ouch! a--a knee-cap slipped, or broken--is--the deuce of a rack," groaned the victim, as they proceeded to raise him, the girls supporting, each, a knickerbockered leg, Pemrose the injured one, while Andrew took the main weight of the writhing body, until they laid it upon some dry moss. Yes! and she knew further what to do, that Camp Fire Girl who wore the Fire Maker's bracelet upon her wrist, for plucking off her soft, green sweater she rolled it into a wad and placed it under the hollow of the injured knee, so flexing it, supporting it, while Una doubled hers into a pillow for his head,--Una who moved as if in a fantastic dream. And then arose the question as to the next move; how to go about obtaining further help. "We might--might make a stretcher with poles, saplings, with our sweaters, your coat, Andrew, and--and carry him down to the nearest farmhouse," Pem suggested. "No-o thank--you!" The injured man shifted his shoulders ever so slightly upon one elbow and looked at her; the tiniest laugh shot the rapids of pain in his eye. "My son said you had a whole lot of 'pep'--same that's in your inventor-father, I suppose, who wants to bombard the moon!... My son who's play-ing baseball now down on the Greylock field--mountain's foot!" The sufferer here appealed to Andrew. "If you could--only--get him up here, I'd be all right! There's an auto at the nearest farmhouse--maybe they'd let you take it. Any one--any one can point out 'Starry'"--in a lame rush of pride--"player who made that home run--" "Hadna I better bid him bring a doctor along too--a stretcher as weel?" put in the Scotchman dryly. The victim nodded, looking at the other's cap. "You're a chauffeur," he pleaded; "you'll drive fast?" "Aye, fegs! Fast as God and gasoline will let me!" answered Andrew devoutly, with an anxious glance at the two girls. As his tall, spare figure scrambled on down the trail, the sufferer raised his eyes to Pemrose. "If--if you could t-twist my knapsack round from under me," he murmured; "there's a restorative in it--a few drops of ammonia--I'm faint!" She did so--and turned for the moment as faint as he was. The whole trail swam, grew black--black as the wisp of thin, ebony silk, parachute silk, with a fraction of a bent wire frame peeping out from one corner of that roomy knapsack. "Well! are you going to desert me now-ow?... Now that the thief is so-o nice-ly bagged!" The man looked up at her, some dash of whimsical fire in him mastering weakness; at the girl kneeling, bolt upright, with the black rag between her hands, and the twisted scrap of frame,--the frame which had drifted down two hundred miles. [Illustration: The man looked up at her, some dash of whimsical fire mastering weakness. Page 268.] "Ar-re you--going--to desert me now?" Again the anchor held; the noble anchor: Give Service: it was as if a voice outside of her numbed self spoke the words.