The cause of the fire, as the girl explained when she was sufficiently recovered to do so, was one of common occurrence. Some light articles of clothing had been hung in front of the fire to air, and whilst Russell sat enjoying his after-dinner nap, she had gone into the other room to attend to certain domestic duties, and during this temporary absence a spark must have set the things on fire, which was only discovered when the outer room was in a blaze. As the few things which Russell possessed were all destroyed, arrangements had to be temporarily made for the accommodation of himself and his daughter in two of the other huts on the Ranch, until his own could again be rebuilt. Leaving instructions for all hands to turn to in the morning, and help put up another dwelling for the two who had been thus suddenly left houseless, Ranger, who, as soon as informed of what was happening, had lost no time in proceeding to the scene of the fire, returned home to see how it fared with Fellows, and to make preparations for his journey in the morning, which would now have to be undertaken without his companionship. Fellows was in a high state of fever; whilst many of the burns he had sustained were seen to be of such a serious character that it was felt more skilled assistance would have to be procured. A messenger was at once despatched into the town—distant some fifteen miles—for the only medical man in the neighbourhood. It was shortly after four o’clock in the afternoon, that, mounted on a good horse, the messenger set out for M’Lean Station, in hopes of finding the doctor and returning with him. His way for the most part was over rolling prairie, relieved by clumps of trees, which are to be found on the borders of such lakes and streams as are constantly to be met with; or down amid the hollows, where grow the heavy luxuriant grasses from which the farmer obtains his supply of winter hay. As the slanting rays of the westering sun were sending up their brilliant points into the clear blue vault above, Ranger’s messenger drew rein before the door of the doctor’s dwelling, a very unpretentious, one-storeyed detached villa—one of some half-dozen—standing upon a hillside leading up to the station. Dr. Fisherton was not at home; he had left in the early morning for the Pleasant Hills, in response to an imperative request from a Nat Langham, who kept a store, and farmed a small holding at the foot of the hills, and was not expected back till late. There was no help for it but to wait. So, stabling his horse, he accompanied his negro attendant into the servants’ quarters, determined to make himself as comfortable as possible for the time being. After doing full justice to the meal which was presently spread out before him, and which his long ride had well prepared him for, he lighted his pipe and seated himself at the window to wait for the doctor’s return.