"On a mesa, northwest across the ridge from Dixon Park." "Good eye," he grinned. "I heard some of our strays had got over into that country, but I wasn't sure." We weren't here to talk cattle, though; and Fitz spoke up: "Where's the nearest ranch, or town?" "The nearest town is Shenandoah. That's on the railroad about eight miles yonder. Follow the right-hand trail and you'll come out on a wagon-road that takes you to it. But there's a ranch three miles up the valley by this other trail. Sick man?" The cow-puncher had good eyes, too. "Yes. We want a doctor." "Ain't any doctor at Shenandoah. That's nothing but a station and a store and a couple of houses. I expect the nearest doctor is the one at the mines." "Where's that?" "Fifteen miles into the hills, from the ranch." "How far is Green Valley?" asked the major, weakly. "Twenty-three or four miles, by this trail I come along. Same trail you take to the ranch. No doctor now at Green Valley, though. The one they had went back East." "Then you let the Red Fox Scouts take me to the station and put me on the train for somewhere, and they can catch their own train; and you two fellows go ahead to Green Valley," proposed the major to Fitz. "Ain't another train either way till to-morrow morning," said the cow-puncher. "They meet at Shenandoah, usually--when they ain't late. If you need a doctor, quickest way would be to make the ranch and ride to the mines and get him. What's the matter?" "We don't know, for sure. Appendicitis, we think." "Wouldn't monkey with it," advised the cow-puncher. "Then the Red Foxes can hit for the railroad and Fitz and Jim and I'll make the ranch," insisted the major. "We won't," spoke up Red Fox Scout Ward, flatly. "We'll go with you to the ranch. We'll see this thing through. The railroad can wait." "Well," said the cow-puncher, "you can't miss it. So long, and good luck." "So long," we answered. He rode on, and we looked at the major. "I suppose we ought to get you there as quick as we can," said Fitz, slowly. "Do you want to ride, or try walking again, or shall we carry you?" "I'm better now," declared our plucky corporal. He stood up. "I'll walk, I guess. It isn't far." So we set out, cautiously. No, it wasn't far--but it seemed _mighty_ far. The major would walk a couple of hundred yards, and then he must rest. The pain doubled him right over. We took some of the stuff off Sally, and lifted him on top, but he couldn't stand that, either, very long. We tried a chair of our hands, but that didn't suit. "I'll skip ahead and see if I can bring back a wagon, from the ranch," volunteered Red Fox Scout Van Sant; and away he ran. "You wait," he called back, over his shoulder. We waited, and kept a cold pack on the major. In about an hour and a half Van came panting back. "There isn't any wagon," he gasped. "Nobody at the ranch except two women. Men folks have gone and taken the wagon with them."