"Then a great tree drifted down against us, and to save the boat from being swamped, Tex seized the ax and hacked the cable in two. The tree hit his head and knocked him senseless for a time. I bandaged it the best I could by the light of the lightning flashes, and we drifted on, fighting the flood and the trees. The boat sprang a leak and we bailed and bailed, and the next thing I knew he was shaking me, and day was just breaking, and we were close to shore. And he tied the rope to the saddle of my horse and made him jump overboard and we followed. That's the last I remember--jumping into the water--until I awoke, it must have been hours later, to find myself tied--and I got loose, and saw Long Bill Kearney beside the river, and I flew back to the horses, and just as I was about to escape, there stood that unspeakable Purdy, grinning at me." Alice paused and pressed her hands to her eyes as if to keep out the sight, "And, oh, the things he told me--the awful things--the threats--the promises--that were worse than the threats. I must have lost consciousness again--for the next thing I remember--I was here in this room, and you were bending over me." The two listeners had sat spellbound by the narrative and at its conclusion, Janet McWhorter leaned forward and took one of Alice's hands in both of hers. And when Alice looked again into the girl's eyes lifted to her own, she read something akin to adoration in their depths. The girl's lips moved: "And you did that--risked your life--everything--to save his life--to keep him from being shot!" "It wasn't anything," protested Alice. "It was the least I could do. He risked his life for ours--Win's and mine--last year--and--why, I love that boy--like a sister. I never had a brother and--I need one." "And maybe he needs--a sister," murmured Janet softly. And at the words Alice Endicott glanced swiftly into the girl's face, and her eyes glowed suddenly with the light of great understanding. Her own troubles were forgotten, and into her heart welled a mighty gladness. She pressed the hands that held her own. "Do you know him?" she whispered. The girl nodded: "Yes--a little. He borrowed one of our horses--and I rode with him when he went back to get you and bring you to the ranch. And I rode to the edge of the bad lands with him when he took Purdy's trail. And then he sent me back." "Then, he _is_ safe! Oh, I'm glad--glad! Purdy told me he had drowned, but I didn't believe him. I knew he would come to my rescue." She paused and her face clouded, "but, now, I am safe and he is in danger. Purdy may kill him----" "Don't you go frettin' about that, deary," broke in Jennie. "If they's any killin' to be done between them two, Tex'll do it. Purdy's a gunman all right, but he'll never git Tex. Tex is the best man--an' Purdy knows it--an' his kind ain't never no good when they're buffaloed." "But, he might shoot him from ambush!"