The touch of cool water on his forehead revived the young Texan. He was lying on his back, with bis head comfortably pillowed on a rolled-up blanket. He was in the shade, and the branches of a tree waved between him and the sky. Then he found himself looking into the face of Alma Caldwell. He thought it was much pleasanter than looking at the sky or at trees, and he did not even blink for fear the vision would vanish. The girl smiled at him faintly and said: “Your shoulder--how does it feel? Do you think you can ride?” Bertram felt of his shoulder. To his surprise it was neatly bandaged, and the stained part of his shirt had been cut away. The numb sensation was gone from his side. He sat up. “I’ll be all right in a minute,” he said. Then he saw that he was down by the spring, where the first man at the cabin had started to go when the work of assassination began. “How did you get me down here by the spring?” asked the Texan. “Jimmy carried you down,” replied the girl. “He’s strong. Of course I had to help him a little.” The events of the morning rushed into the Texan’s memory. Again he saw the beleaguered cabin, heard the firing, saw the slain men. “Your father?” he asked. “What’s become of his body? I must help you with it. And the other man who was killed?” “There’s nothing to do. After we brought you down here and fixed up your shoulder, some men came--men we knew. They took Nate and my stepfather--for the man you saw killed wasn’t my father, as you thought--and have arranged for their burial.” “Why didn’t the men find me?” “None of them came down here, and we didn’t tell them there was any one at the spring. They were in a hurry to get on the trail of the invaders. Other men will be coming from every direction. The whole countryside is being aroused. The ranchmen are furious, and there will be more fighting. Oh, why couldn’t I have arrived in time!” “How could you have stopped it?” asked the Texan. “Easily enough. I could have had such an army of men at the railroad that the invaders never would have come this way. I was visiting near the station, where I first met you. It was my stepfather’s old home. I received a hint of the invasion when it was being planned. Finally, a day or two before the invaders started, I learned the whole truth--that Swingley was raising a body of freebooters under the guise of punishing rustlers. I wrote, and then I telegraphed. Then I thought that probably neither my letters nor my telegrams would be delivered. I determined to come in person, and I expected to arrive ahead of Swingley’s train, if it were possible. But every effort was made to stop me. I was robbed of my transportation, as you know, and I would not have reached Denver if you had not helped me.” “They didn’t bother you after you left Denver, did they?” asked the Texan.